Kit 

i 


iSusytfiHftBHnlJiFS 


n 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 


ill,  ,\^  1 


A    WANDERER'S 
TRAIL 

BEING    A    FAITHFUL    RECORD    OF    TRAVEL 
IN    MANY    LANDS 

BY 

A.  LOTON  RIDGER,  F.R.G.S. 


ILLUHTKATEI)    WITH   HIXTY    BEPKODUCTIOXH 
FROM    J'HOTOGRAPHB 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1914 


-      r.    HIVF,K>IDF.    »RF.S-     ^I^^TEB 
ISBURGH,    SCOTLAND 


IN  TOKEN  OF  GRATITUDE 
TO 

S.  C.  HESTER 

AND 

J.     M.     RYRIE 


,U704:./ 


/  have  lo  thank  Mr  John  Buchan /or  much  kind  ejicourage- 
menl,  and  particularlif  Mr  S.  L.  Bensusax  jor  his  sound 
direction  and  assistance  in  going  through  these  pages. 

A.  L.  R. 

Vanbruch  Park, 
bl.acjcheath,  loxdon. 


CONTENTS 

PARTI 


INTRODUCTION     .... 

CHAPTER 

I.  MY  FIRST  VOYAGE BOUND  FOR  'FRISCO      . 

II.  FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  CALIFORNIA 

III.  EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON 

IV.  TRA\^L  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES    . 
V.  SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  CANADA 

VI.   IN  ALASKA  .... 

VII.    DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKE 
VIII.    HARD  TIMES  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 
IX.    A  STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC       . 
X.    IMPRESSIONS    OF    JAPAN    AND    THE    JAPANT^SE 
XI.    AN  IMPRESSION  OF  JAPANESE  SPORTS 
XII.    SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  KOREA 

XIII,  IMPRESSIONS    OF    THE    JAPANESE   REGIME   IN    KOREA 

XIV.  FROM  KOREA  THROUGH  MANCHURIA 
XV.    IMPRESSIONS  OF  DAIREN  AND  PORT  ARTHUR 

XVI.   DOWN  THE  CHINESE  COAST 
XVII.    FROM  THE  STRAITS  TO  EAST  AMERICA  VIA  SUEZ 
XVIII.    EAST  AMERICA  AND   RETURN  TO  ENGLAND  . 


17 

19 

29 

39 

51 

72 

82 

91 

104 

114 

132 

146 

152 

159 

168 

179 

183 

190 

199 


CONTENTS 
PART  II 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    BOUND  FOR  THE  TRANSVAAL  .  .  .205 

II.    LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG       ....  209 

III.  MINES  AND  MINING  ON  THE  RAND                      .                   .  220 

IV.  LIFE  UNDERGROUND                ....  227 
V.    PREPARATIONS  FOR  OUR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND          .  237 

VI.    TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT                    .                   .  250 

VII.    ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE             .                   .  264 

VIII     TREKKING  THROUGH  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE             .  280 

IX.    ALONG  THE  OKAVANGO  AND  RETURN  TO  THE  LAKE    .  292 

X.    TROUBLES   ON  MY  RETURN   TREK      .  .  .307 

XI.    ON  HORSEBACK  THROUGH  THE   DESERT           .                    .  320 

XII.    IS    THE    EAST   CALLING    OR   THE    WEST   DRIVING  ?      .  330 

XIII.  UP  THE  EAST  AFRICAN  COAST  TO  ZANZIBAR                  .  340 

XIV.  FROM  ZANZIBAR  TO  BOMBAY                 .                    .                    .  349 


XV.  DOWN  THE  MALABAR  COAST 

XVI.  FROM  CEYLON  TO  BURMA    . 

XVII.  SCENES    IN   BURMA 

XVIII.  FROM    MOULMEIN  TO   CALCUTTA 

XIX.  IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN      . 


354 
365 
373 

384 
390 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  the  Author  . 

{Photograph  by  H.  IV.  Busbridge,  Blackheath) 

San  Francisco  :  Entrance  to  the  Golden  Gate 

San  Francisco's  Suburbs 

Lumbering 

In  the  Lumber  Yards    . 

Portland,  Oregon 

Mount   Rainier    . 

Mount   Hood 

Alaska:     a     Country     of     Impressive    Wildness     and 
Grandeur 

Alaska:  a  ''Shack"  in  the  Mountains 

Four  Coaches  drawn   by  three  Engines 

On  the  Yukon    .... 

Skagway,  Alaska 

Victoria,  B.C.      .... 

Vancouver,  B.C. 

The  Palms  of  Honolulu 

A  Group  of  Students  in   the  Mitsui   Bank,  I'okio 

Japan  en  fete 

The  Inland  Sea  . 

An  Everyday  Scene  in  Japan  . 

Japanese  Women 

City  Gate  of  Seoul,   Korea 

Life  in  Seoul,   Korea 

II 


Frontispiece 

if  ace  page 
32 

32 

50 

50 

58 

68 

(is 


Solemn 


80 

88 

92 

92 

100 

108 

108 

124 

138 

144 

144 

148 

148 

l64 

164 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  fact  paje 

Manchuria :    the   little  red-earth  Track,  the   Railway  winding 
its  Tortuous  Course  ... 

Manchuria  :  a  "  Road  "  in  Kwangchangtsu 

Mukden  :  the  Tombs  of  the  Manchu  Emperors 

Harbin     ...... 

Port  Arthur :  a  Japanese  Memorial 

A   Fort  at   Port  Arthur  after  Bombardment 

The  Horrors  of  War       .... 

Hong-Kong:  the  Aftermath  of  a  Typhoon 

A   Malay  V^illage  .... 

Singapore  ..... 

Johannesburg  en  fete  at  the  Time  of  the  Duke  of  Connaught 
Visit  ..... 

A   large   Mine   Property 

The   Battery,  showing  the  Mercury-coated   Plates 

The  Surroundings  of  a  Rand   Mine 

\'ie\v  of  Cyanide   Works 

A  shaky  •'  Hanging  "     . 

Trucking  the  Ore  to  the  Shaft 

Underground   Surveying 

Machine-stoping  .... 

Palapye,  our  Starting   Point 

Watering  Cattle  in  the   Kalahari  Desert 

i'rekking  tlie    Kalahari    .... 

The  Eternal   Sand  .... 

A   Native  "Dug-out"     .... 

Crossing  the   Botletle   River 

A   Group  of  Refugee    D.unaras  in   Ngamiland   . 

Makuba   Women  .... 

12 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Starting  out  on  Trek  from  I'sau 

Big  Game  in  Ngamiland 

Lake   Ngami  :  forcing  a  Way  through  the  Swamps 

Lake  Ngami :  the  Blacksmith's  Quarters 

Refugees  from  German  S.W.  Africa 

Damara  Belles    . 

About  to  cross    . 

Nearly  through  . 

Home,  Sweet  Home 

Zanzibar's  Narrow  Streets 

Old   Portuguese  Fort  in  Zanzib 

Bombay  . 

An  Indian  Bungalow 

On  India's  Shores 

Coir  Fibre  from  the  Cocoanut 

The  Malabar  Coast:  luxuriant  Tropical  Foliag 

In  Eastern  Waters 

Peaceful  Burma  . 

Hong-Kong :  the  Peak  . 

A  Street  in  Hong-Kong 

Tapping  Rubber-Trees 

Tropical  Vegetation  of  Malaya 


Z'o  face  prir/P. 

290 

2<)6 

304 

306 

306 

308 

308 

324 

346 

346 

352 

352 

356 

358 

362 

364 

376 

392 

392 

596 

396 


13 


PART  I 


"  Much  have  I  seen  and  known  ;  cities  of  men 
And  manners,  climates,    .    .    . 
Yet  all  experience  is  an  arch  wherethro' 
Gleams  that  untravell'd  world,  whose  margin  fades 
For  ever  and  for  ever  when  I  move." 

Tennyson. 


INTRODUCTION 

Before  bringing  my  reader  to  the  date  of  my  first  departure 
from  England  a  few  words  of  personal  record  may  not  be 
out  of  place. 

I  began  my  business  career  at  the  age  of  seventeen  in  a 
London  insurance  company.  After  some  months  in  this  office  I 
had  the  opportunity  to  join  the  well-known  Japanese  house  of 
Mitsui,  in  whose  service  I  remained  nearly  three  years.  I  left 
that  firm  to  join  the  house  of  Arbuthnot  Ewart  &  Co.,  with 
which  I  was  connected  till  my  departure  from  London. 

Besides  gaining  a  fair  practical  insight  into  general  commerce 
in  the  service  of  these  two  important  houses,  I  gained,  further, 
that  which  was  of  even  greater  value — the  friendship  and 
interest  of  some  influential  business  men,  whose  help  and 
practical  kindness  to  me  during  my  years  of  travel  made 
possible  a  task  that  had  been  otherwise  hopeless. 

From  my  schooldays  the  desire  to  wander  into  the  Great 
Unknown  was  always  very  strong  in  me.  I  made  many  efforts 
to  obtain  some  foreign  appointment,  but,  chiefly  owing  to 
my  youth  and  a  slight  delicacy  of  constitution,  the  efforts 
were  unsuccessful.  One  day,  however,  whilst  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  merchant  I  received  rather  a  rude  shock.  I  was 
enlarging  on  my  eagerness  to  "  go  abroad  "  (that  vague  phrase 
so  often  in  the  mouths  of  young  Englishmen  at  home)  when  I 
was  disconcei'ted  by  the  blunt  retort:  ''Then  why  the  devil 
don't  you  go  ?  "  With  a  rather  injured  air  I  began  to  explain 
my  many  fruitless  efforts  to  this  end.  I  was  cut  short,  however, 
by  my  listcnci-  saying  :  "  My  boy,  if  you  want  to  go  abroad  and 
sec  the  world — go  I — ship  in  the  iii'st  tramp  you  can  hnd,  bound 
any^vhere.  That  is  the  only  way  to  see  the  world  !  "  These 
words  made  a  deep  impression  on  me  ;  so  much  so  that  within 
r,  17 


INTRODUCTION 

a  month  my  kit  was  packed,  my  farewells  said,  and  I  found 
myself  travelling  down  to  Barry  docks  to  join  a  tramp  steamer 
bound  round  the  Horn  for  San  Francisco. 

Through  the  kindness  of  a  shipbroker  I  had  been  able  to 
arrange  a  passage  on  board,  paying  only  the  small  sum  of  three 
shillings  per  day  for  mess-money. 

I  had  ten  pounds  in  my  pocket  and  a  few  letters  of  intro- 
duction, most  of  them  not  worth  the  paper  on  which  they  were 
written,  I  had  then,  hovv'ever,  that  which  was  of  far  greater 
value.  I  possessed  untiring  Energy,  unlimited  Hope  and  the 
unbounded  Enthusiasm  of  youth.  So  I  was  rich  in  capital,  richer 
than  I  knew :  for  nothing  is  of  real  value  till  it  is  lost  ! 


1 8 


CHAPTER    I 

MY  FIRST   VOYAGE BOUND   FOR    'FRISCO 

THE  date  was  the  13th  of  February  1907.  On  a  bleak, 
i-aw  night  t>-pical  of  February  I  reached  Barry  docks, 
which  looked  as  desolate  and  dirty  as  they  possibly 
could.  Rain  was  steadily  falling,  and  it  might  have  been 
doing  so  for  weeks  on  end,  so  sloppy  and  muddy  were  the 
roads  and  wharves. 

On  leaving  the  station  I  inquired  as  to  the  whereabouts  of 
the  steamer  Strathyre,  the  ship  that  was  to  be  my  home  for 
many  weeks  to  come.  I  found  her  at  last  moored  to  one  of  the 
wharves  under  the  coal-tips,  in  process  of  being  coaled  for  her 
long  voyage.  Boarding  her  by  means  of  the  rope-ladder  hanging 
over  her  side  I  clambered  on  deck.  Everything  there  was  coated 
with  coal  dust — men  included  !  Welsh  coal  may  certainly  be 
the  best  burning  coal  in  the  world,  but  it  is  also  the  dirtiest ; 
its  dust  seems  to  have  a  knack  of  finding  every  nook  and  corner 
of  a  vessel,  and  of  lodging  there. 

The  Strathyre  was  a  new  steamer — the  usual  type  of  a  modern 
caj-go  boat  with  as  nuieh  iron  about  her  and  as  little  wood  as 
possible.  Her  registered  tonnage  was  nearly  three  thousand 
and  her  carrying  capacity  some  six  thousand. 

However,  that  night  I  obtained  but  a  glimpse  of  her  in  her 
coat  of  coal  dust.  Inquiring  for  the  captain,  1  was  told  to  go 
down  to  the  saloon,  where  I  found  him  sitting  busily  writing. 
In  response  to  my  question  as  to  whether  he  were  the  captain 
he  replied  :  '*  Yes,  I'm  the  master."  The  term  then  struck  me 
as  rather  strange.  Having  informed  him  who  I  was,  I  asked, 
seeing  him  so  busy,  if  I  could  not  give  him  a  helping  hand.  He 
gratefully  accepted  my  offer  and  told  me  he  was  nearly  dying 

19 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

for  want  of  sleep,  having  been  up  on  the  bridge  for  the  best 
part  of  three  nights,  while  bringing  the  ship  over  from  the 
Continent,  as  fog  was  with  them  all  the  way. 

As  the  writing  to  be  done  was  all  connected  with  shipping 
matters  with  which  I  was  fairly  familiar,  I  was  able  to  relieve 
him  of  a  great  deal  of  work  ;  in  fact,  by  one  o'clock  he  was  fast 
asleep  in  his  chair,  whilst  I  was  finishing  the  last  letter.  He  was 
very  grateful  for  my  timely  help,  as  he  termed  it,  and  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  make  myself  useful.  The  captain  and  I  became  very 
friendly  during  the  voyage  and  I  often  look  back  with  pleasure 
to  the  many  enjoyable  days  I  spent  in  his  company. 

He  was  about  as  unlike  the  ship's  captain  my  fertile  imagina- 
tion pictured  as  he  could  possibly  be.  My  idea  of  a  sea  captain, 
fomided  on  the  stirring  yarns  of  youth,  was  a  bull-necked, 
ferocious-looking  man,  who  could  not  speak  without  oaths  ; 
whilst  Captain  G — ■ —  of  the  Sirathyre  was  a  quiet,  i-efincd 
Scotsman,  who  would  not  have  appeared  out  of  place  in  a 
pulpit. 

I  found  I  was  splendidly  berthed- — the  captain's  spare  cabin 
being  placed  at  my  disposal.  Down  to  that  time  I  was  not  sure 
whether  I  might  have  been  ordered  to  sleep  in  the  fo'c'sle  or  in 
a  ventilator.  I  was  prepared  for  an}i;hing. 

The  following  morning,  the  ship  not  being  due  to  sail  till  the 
afternoon,  I  took  a  stroll  round  the  town  of  Barry  and  its  out- 
skirts. In  the  sunshine  the  town  appeared  by  no  means  so  dismal 
as  it  had  seemed  to  me  the  night  bcfoi'e,  whilst  the  country 
round  after  tJie  recent  rain  looked  quite  pretty.  It  was,  besides, 
my  last  day  in  England,  so  I  was  not  inclined  to  be  critical. 
Even  the  grimy  docks  and  wharves  appeared  when  we  were 
slowly  steaming  away  from  them  jnore  pleasing  than  they 
looked  on  the  preceding  night. 

At  four  o'clock  the  pilot  came  on  board;  shortly  after- 
wards our  lines  were  cast  off,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  tug  v/e 
steamed  slowly  through  the  lock  gates  into  the  liristol  Channel. 
It  always  is  a  sad  sight  to  sec  an  old  tramp  starting  out  on  a 
long  voyage  with  no  last  farewells,  no  waving  handkerchiefb, 

20 


!\IY  FIRST  VOYAGE-  BOUND  FOR  'FRISCO 

no  interested  eyes  to  follow  her  slowly  steaming  away  in  the 
distance.  Nobody  seems  to  care  !  Her  departure  is  unnoticed  ! 
Only  the  old  dock-hand  curses  her  for  going  out  so  slowly. 

It  was  blowing  fairly  hard  when  we  got  into  the  Channel 
and  a  choppy  head  sea  was  running.  Though  I  felt  somewhat 
squeamish  that  evening,  and  on  and  off  during  the  next  day 
or  so,  I  was  fortunate  in  gaining  my  sea  legs  without  having  to 
pay  the  usual  tribute  to  Father  Neptune,  despite  the  prophecies 
of  loving  relatives.  I  learnt  that  night,  however,  the  wisdom  of 
shutting  my  port-holes  firmly,  for,  on  the  steamer  suddenly 
shipping  a  big  sea  in  the  Channel,  I  found  myself  and  my  cabin 
nearly  swamped,  one  of  the  ports  not  having  been  securely 
shut. 

By  noon  of  the  next  day  we  were  well  in  the  Atlantic,  with 
the  cliffs  of  England — at  Land's  End — fading  away  in  the 
distance. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  that  all  the  crew  and  firemen  were 
Chinese.  This  I  have  found  to  be  the  case  with  nearly  every 
freighter  in  which  I  have  since  sailed.  It  seems  a  pity ! 

The  officers,  however,  were  all  Britishers,  the  engineers  all 
being  Scotsmen  from  Glasgow.  Our  cargo  was  chiefly  building 
material  for  San  Francisco,  Portland  cement  forming  the  bulk 
of  it.  We  had  further  a  good  supply  of  wines  (which  the  carpenter 
and  I  on  more  than  one  occasion  sampled)  and  other  luxuries 
from  the  Continent. 

There  were  two  messes  on  board  --the  deck-officers'  mess  and 
that  of  the  engineers.  My  seat  was  with  the  former. 

The  food  was  plain  but  wholesome,  tinned  stuffs  and  salt 
poik  appearing  frequently  on  the  menu  owing  to  tlie  length  of 
the  voyage.  My  appetite  then  was,  howevei',  equal  to  anything  ; 
and  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  owners  would  not  have  cared  for 
me  as  a  life-passenger  on  the  three-shillings-a-day  basis. 

The  first  few  days  at  sea  I  spent  exploring  all  the  nooks  and 
crannies  of  my  floating  home — everywhere  from  the  chain 
locker  to  the  shaft  tunnel.  To-day  I  can  vividly  recall  the  keen 
and  absorbing  interest  I  took  in  all  the  details  of  the  ship, 

21 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

and  in  the  daily  routine  of  work  on  board.  I  spent  hours  on  the 
bridge,  especially  if  it  were  blowing  hard,  feeling  the  driving 
wind  and  rain  as  refreshing  as  nectar.  The  changing  of  the 
watches,  the  ringing  of  the  bells,  the  taking  of  the  log,  the 
hauling  up  of  the  lights— in  short,  everything  that  is  part  and 
parcel  of  the  regular  life  on  board  of  a  deep-sea  tramp — was  a 
source  of  absorbing  interest  to  me.  At  the  outset  of  the  voyage 
the  captain  and  I  had  struck  a  bargain.  He  was  very  anxious  to 
learn  French  ;  so  I  undertook  to  teach  him  that  language  as  well 
as  my  knowledge  would  permit.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  promised 
to  teach  me  navigation  and  as  much  astronomy  as  he  knew. 
Hence  our  evenings  were  always  well  occupied. 

Running  south  and  west,  skirting  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  we  soon 
came  into  warmer  latitudes,  where  the  weather  became  finer 
and  the  seas  calmer.  Seven  days  after  leaving  England  we 
sighted  Madeira,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  of  February 
we  anchored  off  St  Vincent  Island,  the  chief  island  of  the  Cape 
Verde  group. 

Shortly  after  medical  inspection  the  coaling  of  the  shi])  began. 
All  the  coal  obtained  at  this  island  is  Welsh  coal,  imported  by 
colliers  and  stocked  on  the  island.  Iron  barges,  towed  out, 
brought  it  to  the  ship  lying  in  tlie  bay,  l)eing  transfen-ed  into  the 
steamei'"s  bunkers  by  means  of  baskets.  Steamers  can  be  coaled 
here  at  the  ]-ate  of  some  twelve  hundred  tons  per  day. 

I  went  ashore  after  breakfast  with  the  captain,  but  was  not 
very  greatly  impressed  by  the  appearance  of  the  first  foreign 
soil  on  which  I  put  my  loot.  What  cliicfly  seem  to  have  remained 
impressed  on  my  mcmoi'y  ai-e  the  gaudily  painted  buildings  of 
a  glaring  green,  and  tlie  pompous  appearance  of  the  Portuguese 
sentinels  wlio  guarded  the  official  buildings.  A  swarm  of  beggars 
greeted  our  arrival  on  shore,  one  and  all  offering  their  services 
as  guides.  Tlie  inhabitants  seemed  to  be  a  mixed  race  of 
Portuguese  and  negroes. 

Having  visited  the  ship's  agents,  where  I  had  the  opportunity 
of  sampling  some  real  Madeii-a  wine  and  bananas,  we  strolled 
round  the  to\vn  to  see  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen,  which  was 

22 


MY  FIRST  VOYAGE— BOUND  FOR  'FRISCO 

very  little.  The  island  for  the  most  part  appeared  barren  and 
sandy,  thouf^h  in  places  I  noticed  tropical  fruits  c^rowing  in 
abundance.  Like  the  others  of  the  group,  the  island  is  of  volcanic 
oi-igin  and  is  both  mountainous  and  rocky.  The  group  is  owned 
by  the  Portuguese,  who  discovered  and  occupied  it  as  early 
as  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Apart  from  the  im- 
portance of  St  Vincent  Isle  as  a  convenient  coaling  port  for 
steamers  southward  bound,  the  Cape  Verde  Islands  are  but  of 
small  value. 

Coaling  was  finished  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  shortly  after 
sundown  we  weighed  anchor  and  steamed  away.  It  was  full  moon 
on  the  night  of  our  departure  ;  and  I  can  recall  how  very 
picturesque  the  islands  looked  in  the  moonlight.  As  we  slowly 
steamed  out  we  passed  a  large  jagged  rock  w^hich  stood  out  like 
some  giant  sentinel  guarding  the  entrance  of  the  island.  Look- 
ing back,  one  saw  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  little  town,  almost 
paled  by  the  moon's  rays,  die  out  one  by  one,  till  only  the  high 
peaks  of  the  islands  remained  above  the  horizon. 

The  weather,  as  we  steamed  south-west,  continued  delightful, 
hot  and  sunny.  When  crossing  the  line  we  got  into  the  south-east 
trade  winds,  having  lost  those  from  the  north-east  a  day  or  two 
after  leaving  the  islands.  The  chief  officer  had  by  now  enlisted 
me  as  one  of  his  painters,  or  sailors  (there  is  mighty  little  differ- 
ence to-day),  and  I  usually  spent  my  mornings  in  painting 
stanchions  and  making  myself  generally  useful.  It  kept  me 
busy  and  prevented  time  from  hanging  heavily  on  my  hands. 
The  nights,  however,  in  these  southern  tropics  were,  if  I  may  say 
so,  the  best  part  of  the  day.  Sunny  days,  ended  by  lovely  sunsets, 
were  followed  by  perfect  starry  nights.  Nothing  but  the 
rhythmical  sound  of  the  thi'obbing  engines,  as  the  ship  made 
her  way  througli  the  phosphorescent  seas,  broke  the  peaceful 
calm  of  these  tropical  nights.  Now  and  then  a  squall  would  strike 
the  ship  with  midsummer  fury  ;  torrential  rains  would  descend 
f  I'om  the  black  canopy  above  ;  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  would 
for  a  moment  turn  night  into  day,  but  within  the  hour  all  would 
be  peaceful  again  with  the  passing  of  Nature's  angry  mood. 

23 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

It  was  generally  late  before  I  turned  in,  for  I  spent  hours 
walking  to  and  fro  the  deck,  dreaming  such  dreams,  building 
such  castles  in  the  air  as  only  a  young  man  of  twenty-one  can 
when  he  has  all  the  world  before  him. 

A  favourite  nook  of  mine  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  was  the 
ship's  bows,  where  I  waited  for  the  sun  to  set.  I  would  follow 
the  graceful  flight  of  the  flying-fish,  Avatch  the  gambols  of  a 
school  of  porpoises  diving  to  and  fro  under  the  ship,  and  gaze 
fascinated  into  the  smooth  depths  of  the  fathomless  wateivs 
through  which  the  steamer  sped.  My  first  impression  of 
the  peaceful  calm  of  those  days  and  nights  in  tropical  seas  is 
indelibly  imprinted  on  my  mind,  and  stands  out  to-day  perhaps 
more  prominently  than  anything  else  in  that  first  voyage  of 
mine. 

Leaving  the  tropics,  still  steering  south-west,  we  felt  the 
change  in  the  temperature  and  the  weather  became  less  settled 
and  colder.  We  then  met  some  rough  days  with  heavy  winds  and 
seas  from  the  south.  Our  progress  became  slower,  our  usual  run 
of  some  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  dropping  to  under  two 
hundred,  and  big  seas  every  now  and  then  swept  the  for-ward 
part  of  the  ship.  We  passed  many  whales  in  these  southerly 
waters,  though  never  near  enougli  to  allow  me  to  obtain  a  good 
view  of  them. 

On  the  23rd  of  March,  thirty-eight  days  out,  we  sighted  Cape 
Virgin,  a  low  white  cliff ;  and  shortly  afterwards  we  made 
Dungeness,  where  we  reported  ourselves  at  Lloyd's  station.  We 
anchored  at  midday  in  Possession  Bay  to  wait  for  the  turn  of 
the  tide.  As  we  lay  at  anchor  in  the  entrance  of  the  Straits 
of  Magellan  we  had  a  full  view  of  the  inliospitable  shores  of 
Patagonia  and  of  the  island  of  Tierra-del-Fucgo. 

Special  caution  is  necessary  in  approaching  and  navigating 
the^c  htraits,  as  the  cui'rents  and  tides  off  the  coast  are  very 
strong  ;  the  force  of  tiie  current  through  the  Narrows  is  some- 
times as  much  as  five  to  seven  knots  an  hour.  Cape  Vii'gin  is 
])ut  a  very  low  cliff,  and,  the  distance  off  shore  not  being  easy 
to  estimate,  negotiation  of  the  eastward  entrance  to  the  straits 

^4 


MY  FIRST  VOYAGE  -BOUXD  FOR  'FRISCO 

needs  extreme  care.  Sailing  ships,  of  course,  never  attempt  tlie 
passage,  but  sail  romid  the  Horn, 

On  the  turn  of  the  tide  we  weighed  anchor  and  entered  the 
straits  with  a  strong  south-west  wind  against  us.  For  about  one 
hundred  miles  from  Cape  Vii-gin  the  land  was  low,  grassy  and 
treeless.  The  low-lying  ground  then  gave  place  to  rugged  country 
of  rough-outlined  hills  and  towering  mountains,  which,  dark 
and  gloomy,  with  blue  glaciers  interlodged,  reared  their  snow- 
capped peaks  over  the  waters  at  their  foot.  Their  solemn 
grandeur  was  very  impressive.  The  still  silence  that  reigned 
added  to  the  desolation  of  the  scene. 

Darwin,  in  his  work  on  the  voyage  of  the  Beagle,  describes  the 
scenery  of  the  Straits  of  Magellan  in  picturesque  words  :  "  It 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  scene  where  Man  seemed  to  have 
fewer  claims  or  less  authority.  The  inanimate  works  of  Nature 
— rock,  ice,  snow,  wind  and  water,  all  warring  with  each  other, 
yet,  combined  against  Man,  reigned  in  absolute  sovereignty  !  " 

The  town  of  Punta  Arenas,  born  since  Darwin's  time,  is, 
however,  the  symbol  of  Man's  assertion  of  his  rights  ;  though 
the  glittering  blaze  of  lights  seemed  but  to  intensify  the 
loneliness  and  wildness  of  the  surrounding  country. 

The  passage  through  the  straits,  a  distance  of  three  hundred 
and  ten  miles,  took  us  thirty-seven  hours  ;  we  passed  several 
homeward-bound  steamei-s,  to  which  we  dipped  our  ensign. 
Fortunately  the  weather  kept  clear,  for  dirty  weather  in  these 
straits  greatly  increases  the  risk  of  navigation,  as  there  are  but 
few  anchorages  which  afford  any  shelter  to  the  ship  that  is 
"  standing  by  "  till  the  weather  mends. 

As  it  was  getting  dark  we  passed  Cape  Pillar,  a  bold  cliff  with 
high  mountains  to  the  southward,  and  entered  the  Pacific, 
meeting  a  high  head  sea  which  repeatedly  broke  over  the  ship. 
Steaming  north,  we  soon  sighted  the  coast  of  Chile ;  and  on  the 
29t]i  we  anchoi'cd  in  Coronel  Bay,  off  the  town  of  that  name. 

The  seaport  of  Coronel  owes  what  prosperity  it  possesses  to 
the  somewhat  inferior  coal  that  is  mined  in  its  vicinity,  chiefly 
at  Lota.  To  the  sightseer  Coronel  produced  nothing  of  much 

25 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

interest.  I  visited  the  market  and  watched  the  inhabitants  at 
tlieir  marketing,  whicli  chiefly  consisted  in  gossiping,  idling 
and  smoking. 

The  Chilians,  during  our  short  stay,  fully  lived  up  to  their 
national  reputation  for  procrastination  :  Manmia  (to-morrow) 
is  their  watchword  !  It  was  Easter-time  when  we  arrived,  and 
the  people,  being  Roman  Catholics,  were  celebrating  that  season 
in  a  most  festive  way,  to  the  total  disregard  of  business  obliga- 
tions and  ordinary  work.  To  the  many  requests  and  protests  of 
the  steamers  lying  in  the  bay  and  waiting  for  coal  Mariana  was 
the  only  response.  As  we  were  the  latest  arrival  we  soon  saw  it 
was  hopeless  to  tliink  of  getting  supplies  for  some  time  to  come  ; 
consequently,  as  we  had  enough  left  in  our  bunkers  to  take  us 
up  to  'Frisco,  we  replenished  our  stock  of  fresh  water  and 
provisions,  weighed  anchor  and  steamed  away. 

Other  sliips  were,  however,  not  so  fortunate.  One  French 
cargo  boat  had  been  lying  in  the  bay  for  two  weeks  waiting  for 
coal,  but,  notwithstanding  the  promise  of  double  wages  to  those 
who  would  work,  the  steamer  could  not  obtain  so  much  as  a  ton. 
Her  ca])tain  informed  us  that  the  ship  was  due  in  one  month  at 
Baltimore  to  take  up  a  fresh  charter  and  had  then  only  just 
sufficient  time  to  reach  that  poi't.  But  the  urgency  of  immediate 
coaling  did  iiot  in  any  way  worry  the  pleasure-loving,  procras- 
tinating people,  and  the  prospect  of  that  steamer  being  ready  to 
leave  for  another  two  weeks  was  very  remote.  The  French  captain 
was  a  philosophic  man,  howevei',  and  les  beaux  yeux  of  the  Chilian 
girls  seemed  fully  to  compensate  him  for  the  delay  of  his  ship, 
which,  though  he  had  done  his  best  to  avoid  it,  was  after  all  not 
his  ti'ouble  so  mueli  as  that  of  his  owners.  Dou])tless  the  opening 
of  the  Panama  Canal  will  affect  considerably  the  importance  of 
Coroncl  as  a  coaling  port ;  though,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  lead 
to  the  development  of  some  of  the  industries  at  presejit  in  their 
infancy.  Petrcjlcuin  was  re])oi'te(l  to  be  present  in  the  vicinity, 
though  whether  in  profitable  quantities  I  could  not  learn.  It 
was  in  the  streets  of  Corojiel  that  I  first  saw  oxen  in  yokes  used 
as  beasts  of  burden  :  and  I  felt  so  sorry  for  the  poor  animals 

26 


MY  FIRST  VOYAGE— BOUND  FOR  'FRISCO 

patiently  standing  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  sun,  compelled  by 
their  yoke  to  move  in  unison.  The  town  was  very  hot  and  the 
glare  from  the  coloured-plaster  houses  trying  to  the  eyes  ;  so 
I  was  not  at  all  sorry  to  be  once  again  at  sea. 

Resuming  our  voyage,  we  re-entered  the  tropics  and  on  near- 
ing  the  equator  we  experienced  some  extremely  hot  weather. 
The  sea  was  like  a  sheet  of  glass  ;  not  a  ripple  disturbed  its 
surface.  One  immediately  thought  of  some  poor  sailing  ship  lying 
])ecalmed  in  these  waters — the  dreaded  Doldrums  ;  of  the  deadly 
monotony  of  life  for  those  on  board,  who  see  day  after  day  the 
same  unruffled  sheet  of  water,  the  same  pitiless  sun  bleaching 
the  sails  as  they  cling  lazily  to  the  mast.  It  was  stiflingly  hot  on 
board  oui-  steamer,  making  as  we  were  a  nine-knot  breeze.  The 
])iteh  bubbled  in  the  bridge-deck  and  the  iron  decks  were  too 
hot  for  the  bare  foot  of  any  white  man.  Here  and  there  in  the 
glassy  seas  I  caught  sight  of  the  fin  of  a  shark  stealthily  gliding 
along. 

Neai'ly  two  weeks  after  leaving  Coronel  we  sighted  the 
Galapagos  Isles,  noted  for  their  turtles.  The  following  day 
we  recrossed  the  equator,  tliat  day  being  the  hottest  of  our 
voyage. 

Day  after  day  we  steamed  steadily  north  till  the  coast  of  Lower 
California  appeared  on  the  horizon,  and  off  the  coast  we  sighted 
the  first  sail  since  leaving  Chile — for  over  twenty  days  we  might 
have  been  the  only  craft  afloat !  The  weather  daily  grew  cooler, 
as  we  were  now  in  the  north-east  trades,  and  our  voyage  was 
drawing  to  an  end. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  24t]i  April  we  picked  up 
the  American  pilot  off  the  coast  of  San  Francisco.  I  was  on  the 
bridge  at  tlie  time  with  the  captain  when  the  pilot  boarded  us, 
and  f I'om  him  we  learnt  the  latest  news.  So  full  of  iiitcrest  to  me 
at  all  times  was  the  manoeuvring  of  a  deep-sea  steamer  that  it 
mattered  little  at  what  hour  of  the  night  or  day  we  entered  or 
left  a  port — -I  would  be  up  on  the  bridge  the  whole  time.  During 
the  years  I  travelled  perhaps  no  subject  has  been  of  more 
cojiiinual  Jntei'cst  to  me  than  that  of  navigation  or  anything 

27 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

to  do  witli  the  handling  of  a  ship ;  licnce  the  freshness  and 
strangeness  of  ever_vi:hing  was  specially  absorbing. 

We  entered  the  Golden  Gate  at  sunrise,  and  anchored  shortly 
afterwards  in  the  bay  of  San  Franeiseo,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
harbours  in  the  world.  It  was  the  24th  day  of  .Vpril.  Our  voyage 
had  taken  us  sixty-nine  days.  To  all  on  board  save  myself  it 
had  been  uneventful  enough,  nothing  untoward  having  occurred 
dui-ing  the  trip.  To  me,  however,  the  journey  from  the  first  day 
to  the  last  had  been  full.  I  had  learnt  much  of  a  life  of  which 
befoi'c  I  had  been  totally  ignorant ;  I  had  gained  knowledge  of 
the  laws  that  govern  the  coming  and  going  of  the  ocean  tramp 
and  of  the  life  and  daily  routine  of  those  on  board.  The  im- 
pressions of  life  in  general  that  I  obtained  on  that  hi'st  voyage 
are  still  verv  clear  in  mv  mind. 


28 


CHAPTER    II 

FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IX  CALIFORNIA 

MY  arrival  in  San  Francisco  was  just  twelve  months 
after  the  great  earthquake  and  fire  that  demolished 
and  devastated  so  large  a  part  of  that  city.  A  section 
of  the  town  was  still  almost  in  ruins.  Though  to  a  certain  extent 
the  full  effects  of  the  great  catastrophe  were  no  longer  apparent, 
the  results  were  still  obvious  in  nearly  every  street  one  crossed. 
Gaping  holes,  twisted  girders,  broken  masonry  and  tons  of 
wreckage  met  the  eye  on  all  sides. 

To  make  matters  worse,  the  town  was  also  in  the  tlu'ocs  of  a 
laboui'  war.  Every  effort  of  the  capitalists  to  rebuild  the  citj' 
v:as  thwarted  by  the  policy  of  the  labour  unions,  whose  demands 
struck  one  as  being  as  childish  as  they  were  outrageous.  Seven 
sections  of  labour  were  then  on  strike  !  The  unprecedented  wage 
of  five  dollars  gold  a  day  was  being  paid  for  ordinary  unskilled 
labour— for  knocking  mortar  off  bricks.  The  carpenters  had 
struck  for  seven  dollars  a  day,  and  when  their  demands  wei-e 
granted  the  boilermakers  followed  suit  ;  and  so  it  went  on. 
One  felt  as  nmch  admiration  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  wrecked 
city  in  their  determination  that  a  still  more  splendid  town 
should  arise  f]'om  the  ruins  as  one  felt  contempt  for  the  un- 
patriotic actions  and  demands  of  the  labour  unions,  whose 
one  aim  seemed  to  be  to  take  advantage  of  the  city's  plight. 
However,  the  last  straw  was  the  car  strike.  When  the  earme]i 
ceased  work  and  demanded  increased  wages  tlie  capitalists  put 
their  foot  down.  Strike-breakers  were  brought  into  the  city  by 
train  loads  from  all  parts  of  America  and  the  strike  failed,  though 
not  before  many  attempts  had  been  made  to  wreck  the  cars  by 
dynamite.  A  signal  defeat  for  the  unions  resulted,  and  I  believe 

29 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

I  am  correct  in  saying  that  the  cars  in  San  Francisco  are  to-day 
run  by  non-union  men. 

r  That  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good  was  very 
clearly  illustrated  ])y  the  increase  of  business  in  Oakland  across 
the  bay,  though  a  great  deal  of  'Frisco's  business  went  up  to 
Seattle  after  the  fire,  and  incidentally  much  of  the  vice  went 
with  it. 

Before  leaving  the  Strathyre  and  securing  permission  to  enter 
the  States  I  had  to  undergo  an  examination  by  the  immigration 
officials.  I  was  asked :  "  Have  you  any  work  to  do?  "  I  had  not ; 
but  I  was  wrestling  in  my  mind  as  to  whether  it  would  be  politic 
to  confess  that  fact.  However,  I  replied  in  the  negative.  I  was 
then  informed  I  could  enter  the  country,  after  having  satisfied 
the  officials  that  I  had  fifty  dollars  in  my  possession  and  that 
I  was  neither  an  anarchist,  a  polygamist  nor  an  ex-criminal.  I 
learnt  afterwards  that,  had  I  said  that  I  had  some  work  to  go 
to,  I  should  not  have  been  permitted  to  enter,  owing  to  the 
regulations  in  force  against  indentured  labour.  To  tell  the  truth 
in  America  is  the  best  policy — sometimes  ! 

One  of  the  instances  when  it  is  the  best  policy  not  to  tell  the 
truth  is  over  the  question  of  alien  or  liead  tax.  This  tax — 
four  dollars,  I  believe,  I  paid  in  'Frisco— is  charged  on  all 
persons  entering  the  United  States.  Those  exempt,  besides 
American  citizens,  are  Canadians  or  those  who  reside  in  Canada  ; 
but — and  here's  the  point — the  person  entering  from  tliat 
territory,  whether  he  is  Canadian  born  or  not,  is  eoinpelled  to 
show  a  clear  year's  residence  in  that  country.  The  ab'iurdity  of 
tliis  stipulation  is  apparent  in  the  following  instaiiee  :-  A 
Canadian-born  enters  the  States ;  he  cntci's  free,  showing,  say, 
twenty-live  years'  j-esidence  in  Canada.  He  stays,  wc  will  sup})ose, 
in  the  United  States  for  a  few  months  and  then  ix-turns  to  his 
home.  Xow,  after  a  stay  in  his  own  country  of  pcrha])s  a  couple 
of  months,  he  decides  to  return  again  to  America,  lie  does  so  ; 
but  on  this  occasion,  according  to  the  regulations,  he  has  to  pay 
alien  tax  because  he  cannot  show  a  clear  year's  residence  in 
Canada  !   The  absurdity  of   this   })recious   piece   of  American 

30 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  CALIFORNIA 

legislation  is  apparent.^  The  obvious  course  to  adopt  is  not  to 
tell  the  truth  ;  and  then  everyone  is  satisfied  ! 

Having  left  the  ship,  and  being  now  free  to  enter  the  States, 
I  tasted  my  hrst  cocktail  and  learnt  then  the  meaning  of  the 
price  "  two  bits."  As  this  is  the  hallmark  of  your  knowledge  of 
the  West  I  impart  the  valuable  information.  It  is  twenty-five 
cents.  I  further  learnt,  this  first  day  in  'Frisco,  the  phrase  "  up 
against  it."  This  expression  was  in  the  mouth  of  every  San 
l-^'ranciscan  when  he  was  discussing  the  one  and  only  topic  of 
conversation  with  visitors^ — the  fire  of  190G  ;  they  never  talk 
there  of  the  'quake  !  It  was  certainly  a  very  expressive  phrase, 
and  one  that  aptly  described  the  condition  of  the  inhabitants 
of  'Frisco  during  their  troubles,  whether  from  fire,  'quake  or 
labour  unions. 

As  fifty  dollars  represented  all  my  worldly  wealth,  I  had 
devised  some  wonderful  schemes  for  economising.  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  putting  into  practice  my  resolution  to  economise 
this  first  day  of  mine  in  America.  As  it  was  very  hot  work 
tramping  through  the  dusty  streets,  I  went  into  a  saloon  and 
asked  for  a  glass  of  beer  ("  steam  beer,"  I  think  they  call  it — one 
generally  gets  more  steam  than  beer  unless  the  bar-keeper  knows 
his  job  well)  and  I  put  down  a  nickel  (five  cents).  I  was  curtly 
informed:  "All  drinks  fifteen  cents  each,  two  for  '  two  bits.'  " 
I  tried  lemonade.  No  good  !  I  was  told  that  with  a  "  free  lunch  " 
counter  they  could  not  afford  to  sell  anything  at  live  cents  a 
glass.  Not  having  then  the  "  gall  "  to  walk  out  I  paid  my  fifteen 
cents,  but  despite  the  fact  that  I  had  just  had  lunch  I  made 
terrific  inroads  into  the  "  free  lunch  "  counter.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  the  saloon  inade  nothing  out  of  the  deal.  I  left  feeling  proud 
that  I  had  put  my  new  scheme  of  economy  into  practice,  though 
I  nuist  confess  to  feeling  very  sluggish  for  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon. 3Iy  next  visit  was  to  a  cigar  store  to  buy  some  Virginia 
cigarettes.  The  ''  wise  guy  "  (I  believe  that  is  the  correct  term) 
in  the  store  said  that  he  did  not  stock  them  ;  in  fact,  he  half 

'  It  may  be  that  this  stipulation  is  no  longer  in  force  ;  I  only  speak  from 
my  experience  in  1907. 

31 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

insinuated  there  were  no  such  cigarettes  on  the  market.  "  We 
only  sell  foreigners,"  he  informed  me.  By  that,  of  course,  I 
inferred  he  meant  Turkish  or  Egyptian  cigarettes — and  not 
strangers  !  I  apologised  for  my  ignorance,  pleading  the  foolish 
notion  that  as  Virginia  was  one  of  the  States  of  the  Union  it  had 
occurred  to  me  that  the  tobacco  grown  there  might  be  smoked 
in  America. 

I  had  in  my  possession  a  letter  of  introduction  to  an  English- 
man who  had  left  home  quite  a  youngster  and  was,  I  had  been 
told  at  home,  in  business  as  a  commission  merchant  in  Oakland. 
As  he  lived  in  Alameda,  across  the  bay,  I  decided  to  look  him 
up  the  following  day.  Early  the  next  moi-ning  I  caught  one 
of  the  many  ferries  that  ply  to  and  fro,  and  reached  Alameda. 
I  found  the  house  and  presented  my  letter.  With  true  Calif ornian 
hospitality  I  was  invited  to  stay  a  few  days  till  1  had  made 
arrangements  as  to  what  I  was  going  to  do.  Much  to  my  surprise 
my  host  informed  me  in  course  of  conversation  that  his  business 
was  not  exactly  that  of  a  commission  merchant ;  he  was  a  saloon- 
keeper. He  said  that  he  had  thought  it  a  kindness  not  to  make 
any  mention  of  his  real  occupation  to  his  folks  at  home,  as  he 
had  no  wish  to  shock  their  conventional  ideas.  He  also  asked 
me  when  writing  home  not  to  mention  the  true  character  of  his 
commission  merchant's  business.  Needless  to  say  I  promised. 
I  must  confess  that  I  was  not  altogether  sorry  that  my  merchant 
had  materialised  into  a  saloon-keeper,  as  I  felt  he  would  more 
readily  understand  iny  desire  to  see  life.  Though  I  had  come 
out  ostensibly  to  find  some  conmicreial  positioji,  I  had,  I  fear, 
but  little  intention  then  of  settling  down  right  away.  I  had  my 
freedom,  and  was  possessed  of  but  one  idea — to  gain  experience. 
To  do  that  I  was  ready  and  willing  to  do  anything,  or  to  go 
anywhei'c. 

In  the  company  of  my  host  I  visited  his  salooii.  whicli  lay  in 
the  central  part  of  Oakland.  Whilst  walking  through  Alameda 
towards  his  saloon  I  caught  sight  of  trains  with  ciaiiging  bells 
rushing  througli  the  streets  ;  at  lirst  sight  they  appealed  to  me 
very  strange.  !My  companion,  as  we  walked  along,  pointed  out  to 

-\2 


^L0^    J. 


\\     V  l<  AM 


,\  I  KAMI-;  'I'll  ■iiih:  ( It  a.iii:\   ( '.  \ii-. 


S  w    1''k  \\i  isi  ()">   Si 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  CALIFORNIA 

me  wliat  were  to  him  noteworthy  objects  of  interest.  He  first 
drew  my  attention  to  a  church,  remarking  briefly :  "  That's 
where  I  was  married  !  "  I  silently  sympathised.  A  little  farther 
on  he  casually  said:  "I  laid  this  side-walk  on  which  we  are 
walking  when  I  was  up  agai]ist  it  two  years  ago  !  "  I  was  natur- 
ally very  surprised  to  hear  a  man,  married  to  a  charming  lady 
and  living  in  a  lovely  house,  talking  of  "  running  a  saloon  " 
and  "  laying  cement  side-walks."  ISly  English  orthodox  idea  that 
to  work  with  your  hands  was  derogatory  here  received  its  first 
rude  shock.  Further,  I  secretly  registered  a  determination  to 
emulate  at  the  first  opportunity  my  companion's  noteworthy 
performances.  Strange  is  it  not  how  small  things  alter  the 
course  of  one's  life  ?  Had  my  companion  been  a  staid  business 
man,  possibly  to-day  I  might  be  a  well-to-do  alderman  in  San 
Francisco  ;  whereas  he,  being  what  he  was,  imparted  to  me  much 
of  the  roaming  spirit  of  the  West — and  thus  to-day  I  am  what 
I  am  ! 

In  his  saloon  I  met  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  I  fully 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  my  surroundings  (though  not  too  deeply 
into  the  alcoholic  part)  and  mixed  freely  in  the  company  of 
gamblers,  miners,  and  the  usual  run  of  men  who  are  habitues  of  a 
bar  in  the  Western  States.  But  for  the  fact  that  there  was  no 
vacancy  I  was  quite  ready  to  take  the  job  of  a  waiter  in  the 
saloon — to  cany  to  and  fro  trays  of  drinks  to  the  thirsty  fre- 
quenters— so  determined  was  I  to  penetrate  into  the  different 
strata  of  life.  The  intense  novelty  and  the  great  contrast  from 
the  conventional  atmosphere  in  which  I  had  up  to  then  lived 
gave  a  zest  to  all  my  experiences  in  the  West. 

After  a  few  days  in  these  surroundings  I  had  carefully  ac- 
(piircd  a  stock  of  choice  Americanisms  with  which  to  interlard 
my  speech,  and  I  made  valiant  efforts  to  acquire  the  intonation 
of  the  Westerner,  which  is  not  the  nasal  twang  of  the  globe- 
trotter or  that  heard  in  the  Xew  England  Stares.  Notwithstand- 
ing, liowevc]',  my  fluent  flow  of  Western  slang  it  was  always 
my  English  accent  that  gave  me  away.  Our  uneven  accentua- 
t.ion  in  speech,  in  contrast  to  the  monotone  of  the  American, 
c  33 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

constitutes,    I  think,    the   chief   difference   between   the   two 
modes  of  speech. 

Things  were  very  dull  on  both  sides  of  the  bay,  business  being 
more  or  less  stagnant ;  and  so,  notwithstanding  my  efforts  and 
those  of  my  host,  I  was  unable  to  obtain  work  of  any  description. 
To  get  any  oflice  work  was  out  of  the  question  ;  and  I  must 
confess  I  was  not  anxious  to  obtain  a  job  of  this  description.  It 
was  too  tame  for  me.  I  therefore  decided  to  go  up  to  Portland, 
for  I  heard  work  was  plentiful  there  and  in  the  lumber  camps  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  town.  I  felt  that  watching  games  of  poker, 
prowling  round  the  docks,  running  the  risk  of  a  broken  head  in 
Chinatown  and  seeing  moving  pictures  in  "  dime  "  shows  was 
hardly  the  way  to  make  a  fortune.  ^ly  saloon-keeper  friend, 
however,  suggested  that  before  I  left  California  I  should  go  up 
to  a  fruit  ranch  owned  by  some  friends  of  his  and  there  get  a 
glimpse  of  i-eal  Californian  life.  I  jumped  at  the  opportunity 
and  started  off  the  same  afternoon.  A  three  hours'  train  ride 
through  very  picturesque  country  brought  me  to  my  destina- 
tion— a  small  place  called  Hcaldsburg.  From  here  I  had  been 
instructed  to  strike  boldly  through  the  countj'y  due  west,  till  I 
reached  certain  roads,  one  of  which  led  to  the  ranch. 

It  was  just  getting  dark  when  I  alighted  from  the  train,  or, 
to  be  more  ti'uthful,  when  I  fell  off — this  unorthodox  and  some- 
what undignified  method  of  alighting  being  occasioned  by  the 
unusual  distance  from  the  step  to  the  gromid  and  the  absence  of 
a  platform.  On  leaving  the  station,  or  "  depot  "  as  it  is  termed 
out  there — with  a  tremendous  accent  on  the  "  e  '' — I  started  to 
steer  my  westerly  course ;  but  like  a  true  tenderfoot  I  took  the 
wrong  road,  passing  by  the  path  I  should  have  taken.  I  thought 
in  my  ignorance  that  it  could  ]iot  possibly  aspire  to  the  title  of  a 
road,  haviiig  yet  to  learn  what  roads  were  like  in  California. 
Presently  I  entei-ed  a  tliick  forest  of  redwood  trees.  It  was  quite 
dark  before  I  i-eaclu'd  it,  but  when  I  had  gone  some  fifty  yards 
througlithe  foi'c^t  of  toweriiig  timber  the  blackness  became  so 
inteiise  tliat  I  could  not  see  a  yai'd  in  h'ont  of  or  above  me. 
IL  was  only  witJi  the  greatest  diJIienlty  lliaL  1  could  follow  the 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  CALIFORNIA 

path  I  was  treading.  I  had  never  before,  and  indeed  have  never 
since,  experienced  such  darkness  as  that  which  enveloped  me 
then.  I  was  fortunately  in  possession  of  good  nerves,  for  the 
rustling  in  the  bushes  and  the  slight  movements  amidst  the 
towering  timber  that  every  now  and  then  reached  my  ears  in 
that  impenetrable  darkness  were,  to  say  the  least,  very  trying. 
However,  carefully  picking  my  steps  I  blundered  on  till  I 
found  my  way  barred  by  a  fence.  I  was  then  confirmed  in  the 
belief  that  I  was  on  the  wrong  road.  There  remained  then  no- 
thing else  for  me  to  do  but  to  retrace  my  steps,  and  I  accordingly 
did  so.  I  heaved  quite  a  sigh  of  relief  when  I  saw  once  again  the 
light  of  the  stars.  Eventually  I  reached  my  destination,  only  to 
find  the  farmhouse  and  its  occupants  wrapped  in  slumber.  My 
arrival  soon  started  the  dogs  going  ;  they  awakened  the  house- 
hold, and,  as  I  was  expected,  a  faint  voice  from  the  darlcness 
cried  out :  "  Are  you  the  Englishman  ?  "  My  accent,  apparently, 
satisfied  them  that  I  was,  for  the  dogs  were  quietened  and  I  was 
welcomed  in. 

After  my  two  hours  of  prowling  about  redwood  forests  I  was 
not  at  all  sorry  to  have  some  supper  and  get  to  bed.  To  my  hosts 
I  attributed  the  lateness  of  my  arrival  to  every  other  cause  than 
the  right  one  ;  for  I  was  slowly  learning  wisdom. 

The  day  after  my  arrival  was  very  wet,  a  drizzling  rain 
falling  all  day.  However,  despite  the  rain,  one  of  my  young  hosts 
took  me  over  the  ranch,  showing  me  all  the  growing  vines.  The 
ranch  covered  many  acres  of  ground,  and  when  we  had  seen  all 
over  it  it  was  full  time  to  have  some  lunch.  The  day  following 
we  drove  over  to  a  neighbouring  saw-mill,  where  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  big  redwood  trees  being  converted  into 
marketable  timber.  The  road  to  the  mill  seemed  in  my  inexperi- 
enced eyes  impassable  for  any  vehicle.  I  had  yet  to  learn  the 
strength  of  an  American  buggy  and  the  great  amount  of  knock- 
ing about  it  will  stand.  Over  boulders  and  through  running 
streams  our  buggy  went  jumping  and  bumping  from  side  to  side. 
On  taking  the  reins  I  found  that  I  needed  all  my  attention  and 
skill  to  avoid  capsizing  the  vehicle.  A  Calif ornian  buggy  is,  how- 

35 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

ever,  made  for  wear  and  it  is  astonishing  what  strain  it  will 
stand,  notwithstanding  its  apparently  fragile  appearance.  A 
buggy  on  a  Californian  I'oad  is  only  equalled  by  a  Russian 
droshky  on  a  road  in  ]Manehin-ia. 

From  the  saw-mill  we  drove  to  a  neighbouring  ranch,  the 
owner  of  which  had  some  yoimg  horses  which  he  wanted  to  catch 
and  break  in.  He  enlisted  oiu-  services,  or  at  least  those  of  my 
companion  ;  mine  were  thrown  in.  Having  tied  up  our  buggy 
we  went  off  to  the  field  where  the  horses  were  grazing.  I  was 
stationed  at  the  one  exit  of  the  field,  whilst  the  other  two 
mounted  horses  and  started  driving  the  animals  they  wanted  to 
catch  down  to  the  opening  near  where  I  was  concealed.  My 
instructions  were  to  keep  the  horses  from  going  up  the  road,  the 
corral  into  which  they  were  to  be  driven  lying  in  the  opposite 
direction.  The  horses  were  driven  out  and  I  executed  my  flank 
movement  with  brilliant  success — a  not  very  dangerous  or 
arduous  task.  The  horses  were  soon  safe  in  the  corral ;  and  then 
the  fun  began  !  My  young  companion  (the  owner  of  the  horses 
appearing  no  more  anxious  to  undertake  the  work  than  did  I) 
entered  the  corral  and,  having  marked  his  horse,  deftly  roped 
him  with  a  lasso  after  one  unsuccessful  throw.  Quickly  taking  a 
turn  round  a  tree  stump  he  held  on,  the  captured  horse  pulling 
back  with  all  his  might.  The  pressure  on  the  animal's  neck  soon 
became  so  severe  that  it  choked  and  dropped.  The  line  being 
slackened  the  horse  quickly  recovered,  and  so  the  struggle  went 
on.  But  soon  the  young  animal,  moi-e  frightened  than  wild, 
became  exhausted  ;  wliei'eu])on  my  companion,  sidling  a  mule 
alongside,  had  him  speedily  tied.  The  other  horses  were 
similarly  dealt  with,  only  one  of  them  giving  any  considerable 
trouble.  To  such  a  degree  did  this  one  cari'v  his  resistance  and 
fight  before  suljmiltiug  that  he  even  allowed  himself  to  be 
dragged  along  some  yards  o\"erthe  stony  ground  behind  the  mule 
to  which  he  was  fastened.  Howevei'.  a  heavy  ^hi])  and  the  ])aiii 
of  being  dragged  over  the  shai'p  stones  soon  showed  him  the 
wisdom  of  submitting  and  of  following  the  mule.  ^ly  companions 
told  me  that  it  was  generally  the  case  that  the  horse  that  resisted 

<    36 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  CALIFORNIA 

the  longest  became  in  the  end  the  easiest  to  handle.  On  the  way 
back  I  asked  my  companions  whether  either  of  them  would  ride 
one  of  those  young  horses  just  caught  ;  they  both  replied  very 
emphatically :  "  Guess  not !  "  Riding  bronchos  was,  I  found,  not 
an  everyday  vocation — even  in  California.  The  usual  method 
employed  for  breaking  in  horses  is  to  harness  them  with  mules 
pulling  a  heavy  load  ;  this  soon  takes  out  their  superfluous 
"freshness." 

The  next  couple  of  days  I  spent  roaming  over  the  ranch. 
Whilst  wandering  near  a  creek  I  espied  some  glittering  stones 
in  its  bed.  Geography  had  taught  me  California  was  noted  for 
gold  ;  so  the  remembrance  of  this  fact,  coupled  with  the  shining 
pieces  of  stone  in  my  hand,  fully  confirmed  me  in  the  fact  that 
I  had  discovered  gold.  I  had  not  yet  learnt  that  all  is  not  gold 
that  glitters — in  more  senses  than  one  ! 

Thoughts  of  motor  cars,  private  yachts  and  suppers  at  the 
Savoy  flashed  through  my  brain.  I  spent  the  w^hole  of  that  day 
w^ading  creeks,  smashing  up  rocks,  and  getting  myself  in  a 
generally  dirty  condition.  Now  and  then  a  slight  doubt  assailed 
me  as  to  whether  it  were  gold  that  I  had  discovered — for  there 
seemed  tons  of  the  stone  about  !  No  !  It  was  gold,  all  right  ! 
Having  carefully  retained  some  of  the  choicest  specimens  to 
take  back  with  me  to  San  Francisco,  I  spent  two  more  pleasant 
days  roaming  the  country  round.  j\Iany  Italians  were  settled 
round  about  engaged  in  vine-growing  and  fruit-farming,  both 
very  profitable  occupations.  Several  fruit-canneries  were  erected 
in  the  district  and  fed  by  these  fruit  farms.  The  fruit-farming 
industry  was  rather  humorously  summed  up  in  the  sen- 
tence : — "  They  eat  what  they  can,  and  what  they  can't  they 
can  ! "  In  passing,  I  would  just  say  that  I  sincerely  hope  my 
reader  will  not  make  the  same  howler  when  repeating  this  saw, 
as  attributed  to  one  young  English  girl  (by  Americans,  of  course), 
who  is  alleged  to  have  told  it  to  her  friends  thus  :  "  They  eat 
what  they  can  and  what  they  can't  they — put  into  tins  !  " 
This  story  was  told  me  in  'Frisco  to  illustrate  and  to  convince 
me  of  the  Englishman's  lack  of  humour. 

37 


:) 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Bidding  my  charming  hosts  farewell  I  returned  to  San 
Francisco.  On  my  way  there  in  the  train  I  showed  my  gold  (?) 
quartz  to  some  men  sitting  opposite  to  me.  One  of  them,  after 
having  examined  a  piece  with  a  critical  and  knowing  eye, 
remarked  seriously :  "  Gee  !  you've  got  something  good  there  !  " 
He  followed  up  these  words  by  adding  that  he  hoped  that  I  had 
marked  the  spot  from  where  I  had  obtained  the  specimens.  I 
looked  at  him  with  a  do-you-take-me-for-a-tenderfoot  sort  of 
expression  and  replied  loftily:  "Why,  sure  I  did."  I  had  one 
small  piece  of  satisfaction  when  an  assayer  in  'Frisco  to  whom  I 
had  taken  the  stones  drily  remarked  :  "  Shasta  mica  ;  tons  of  it 
in  the  neighbourhood  !  "  and  that  was  that  I  was  not  the  only 
fool  in  the  world,  remembering  my  vis-d-vis  in  the  train. 

Having  thus  gained  a  glimpse,  if  only  a  short  one,  of  real 
Californian  life,  I  started  on  my  plans  to  go  up  to  Portland.  I 
felt  that  it  was  about  time  to  do  some  work  ! 


38 


CHAPTER    III 

EXPERTEXCES   IX   OREGOX   AXD   WASIIIXGTOX 

MY  return  to  San  Francisco  was  made  just  in  time  to 
allow  me  to  catch  the  Strathyre,  which  was  sailing  that 
same  evening  for  Portland,  Oregon,  where  she  was  to 
load  a  cargo  of  timber  for  China.  As  the  American  law  forbids 
any  foreign  ship  to  carry  cargo  or  passengers  from  one  American 
port  to  another,  I  signed  on  the  articles  as  purser  for  this  short 
trip. 

We  left  San  Francisco  in  the  evening,  passing  through  the 
Golden  Gate  when  it  was  dark  ;  when  well  in  the  Pacific  we 
dropped  our  pilot  and  headed  north.  On  the  following  day  we 
ran  into  a  thick  mist  which  necessitated  a  sharp  look-out ;  the 
wliistle  was  kept  going  continuously.  During  the  day  we  passed 
quite  close  to  a  school  of  whales,  and  I  was  able  at  last  to 
obtain  a  good  glimpse  of  their  unwieldy  bodies. 

After  three  days'  steaming,  out  of  sight  of  the  coast  most  of 
the  tim.e,  we  approached  land  and  in  the  afternoon  picked  up 
the  sea-pilot  who  brought  the  ship  into  Astoria,  a  small  town  at 
the  entrance  to  the  River  Columbia.  Here  we  anchored.  After  a 
short  wait  for  the  tide  we  started  up  the  river  under  the  guidance 
of  a  river-pilot.  The  scenery  along  the  Columbia  is  very  pretty, 
the  banks  being  thickly  wooded  on  both  sides,  the  long  slender 
pines  growing  to  a  great  height.  The  banks  were  lighted  at 
intei'vals  for  navigation  purposes,  these  little  lights  twinkling 
like  fireflies  in  the  darkness  of  the  banks.  We  steamed  through 
calm  waters  till  we  reached  Rainier,  where  we  anchored.  It  was 
just  midnight  and  the  little  town  lay  wrapped  in  slumber. 
hiVer\i:hing  was  quiet  and  still  save  for  the  croaking  of  the  frogs 
in  the  forests. 

39 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Early  the  following  morning  I  left  the  ship  and  caught  the 
morning  train  to  Portland.  We  passed  through  gi-eat  stretehes  of 
thickly  timbered  country,  though  along  the  line  of  railroad  much 
of  the  timber  had  been  biu-nt  do\vn  and  the  scene  was  barren 
and  desolate.  I  reached  Portland  shoitly  before  noon  and  was 
very  much  impressed  by  the  town.  It  seemed  to  me  the  soundest 
and  most  stable  on  the  Pacific  coast.  The  atmosphere  of  com- 
mercial prosperity  pervading  the  streets  was  in  some  degree 
lacking  in  the  other  cities  of  like  size  on  this  coast — particularly 
in  Seattle.  Portland  is  certainly  not  so  much  in  the  general 
public's  eye  nor  is  its  progress  sensational ;  but  its  foundation 
and  progress  are  the  more  sound  and  sure.  As  a  consequence 
Portland  suffers  less  from  the  periodical  booms  and  depressions 
which  occur  from  time  to  time  along  this  coast.  A  boom  is  a 
thing  to  be  avoided,  as  many  a  poor  investor  knows  to  his  cost, 
but,  unfortunately,  many  of  the  boosters  of  these  Western  towns 
do  not  realise  that  the  reaction  must  follow  the  boom  as  surely 
as  thunder  must  follow  the  lightning  ;  and  the  reaction  must 
ever  be  in  the  shape  of  a  slump  ! 

Portland  is  eminently  a  conservative  city  established  on  a 
sure  foundation.  One  might  term  it  an  inland  town  with  a 
seaport.  Its  growth  lias  been  sleady.  The  harbour  is  one  of  the 
largest  fresh- water  harbours  in  the  world,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  city  lies  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  richest  agricultural  valleys 
in  America — the  Williamette  Valley.  Nearly  every  foot  of  it  is 
splendid  agricultural  land  and  of  yearly  increasing  value.  If  I 
had  a  thousand  dollars  to  invest,  not  to  speculate  with,  and  had 
the  clioice  of  any  town  on  the  Pacific  coast,  I  should  not  have 
much  dilliculty  in  selection. 

On  my  arrival  I  presented  a  letter  which  had  been  given  me 
in  San  Francisco  to  the  Eastern  and  Western  Lumber  Company. 
I  told  them  I  wanted  to  get  a  job  in  one  of  their  camps.  I  was 
then  ix'fen-ed  to  the  boss-foreman  of  the  camps — a  hard-looking 
s])eeimen  of  humanity,  as  he  well  need  be  for  the  j)osition.  On 
my  cx]ilaining  what  I  wanted  he  gruffly  asked  me:  "Do  you 
mind  getting  killed,  young  fellow  ?  "  I  replied  that  though  1 

40 


EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON 

was  not  exactly  anxious  I  was  prepared  to  take  my  chance.  He 
thereon  gave  me  a  note  to  the  boss  of  No.  1  Camp,  which  I  learnt 
was  situated  at  a  place  called  Eufaula,  on  the  Washington  side 
of  the  River  Columbia. 

Having  two  daj^s  to  spend  before  the  river-steamer  bound  for 
this  spot  was  to  sail,  I  hired  a  room  for  fifty  cents  a  day  and  in  it 
deposited  my  bag  (ni}^  "  grip,"  I  had  by  now  learnt  to  call  it)  and 
started  out  to  see  the  town.  The  greater  part  of  my  baggage,  I 
might  mention,  I  had  left  behind  in  Alameda,  realising  the  folly 
of  can-ying  unnecessary  clothes  while  I  was  on  the  move. 

A  line  from  a  man  in  'Frisco  obtained  for  me  a  good  lunch  at 
the  Arlington  Club  with  one  of  the  lumber-men  of  the  town  ; 
there  I  tasted  the  famous  Hood  River  strawberry,  which  though 
smaller  than  that  at  home  is  quite  as  tasty.  However,  it  was  not 
so  many  weeks  afterwards  that  the  sight  of  one  of  those  straw- 
berries was  the  surest  way  of  extracting  profane  language  from 
me,  but  of  that  anon. 

The  period  of  two  days  having  expired,  on  the  evening  of  the 
19th  I  caught  a  little  river  boat — the  Beaver — bound  down 
the  Columbia,  I  took  with  me  only  a  blanket,  in  which  I  rolled 
a  few  odds  and  ends,  and  thus  equipped  started  off  to  become 
a  lumberer. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  left  and  arrived  at  our  destination  at 
dayl)reak,  having  stopped  at  intervals  at  places  along  the  ^'iver 
taking  on  and  discharging  passengers  and  cargo.  Despite  all 
the  noise  and  hubbub  I  managed  to  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep 
during  the  trip,  but  was  awake  by  dawn.  Everything  at  that 
hour  of  the  morning  was  very  damp,  the  dews  at  night  being 
hea^-y  ;  but  the  world  seemed  very  fresh  and  clean. 

The  sun  Avas  just  rising  when  I  left  the  boat  and  headed  for 
the  camp  to  which  I  was  bound.  It  almost  goes  without  saying 
that  I  lost  my  way  through  the  forest  and  clearings,  but  blunder- 
ing on  I  eventually  came  on  to  a  railroad  track.  Whilst  I  was 
inquiring  from  a  man  whom  I  met  near  by  as  to  the  direction 
in  which  I  should  go  to  reach  the  camp,  a  light  engine,  which  I 
was  told  was  bound  there,  came  along.  The  driver  seeing  us 

41 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

waiting  slowed  down,  and  a  gruff  voice  sliouted,  "Jump  on  !  " 
A  quick  glance  had  shown  me  a  small  platform  on  the  front  part 
of  the  engine  on  which  two  men  were  already  standing.  I 
assumed  I  had  to  jump  on  to  this.  I  did  so,  fortunately  without 
mishap,  though  not  without  some  inward  qualms  that  I  might 
miss  my  footing  and  fall  under  the  moving  engine.  It  apparently 
never  dawned  on  those  lumberers  that  I  might  not  be  as  ac- 
customed to  mounting  running  engines  as  they.  In  a  few  minutes 
we  reached  the  camp.  I  first  got  some  breakfast.  Whether  a  man 
has  a  job  or  not  no  one  goes  hungry  in  a  lumber  camp  ! 

After  breakfast  I  interviewed  the  boss,  from  whoin  I  learnt  that 
whilst  at  the  moment  thei'c  were  no  jobs  going  in  the  camp  a 
contractor  working  a  section  of  the  companx  's  limber  wanted 
a  fireman  for  his  donkey  eiigine.  Asked  as  to  wliether  I  could  do 
this  I  insinuated  with  perfect  equanimity  that  what  I  didn't 
know  of  firing  donkey  engines  was  not  worth  knowing.  Conse- 
quently I  got  the  job  !  The  pay — -that  concerned  me  most — I 
was  told  was  three  dollars  a  day  and  "  all  found."  This  was  as 
good  a  wage  as  was  paid  for  any  section  of  work  going  in  the 
camps  at  that  time. 

Having  got  my  job,  I  thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  I 
endeavoured  to  find  out  as  to  what  kind  of  work  it  was  that  I 
had  to  do,  and  that  was  worth  such  a  good  wage.  From  tactful 
inquiries  made  I  gathered  that  "  all  I  had  to  do  "  was  to  saw  up 
trees,  chop  them  up  into  firewood,  and  feed  the  furnace  of  the 
donkey  engine.  It  sounded  easy  enough  ;  and  whenever  any 
doubts  as  to  whether  I  was  a  past  master  in  the  use  of  an 
American  axe  assailed  mc,  the  memory  of  how  I  successfully 
hacked  down  a  tree  in  the  garden  at  home  fully  dissipated  them. 
On  the  strength  of  my  job  I  got  "  on  tick  "  from  the  camp-store 
a  pair  of  woodmen's  leather  gloves  ;  and  then  gaily  went  off  into 
the  forest  to  find  out  whei'c  I  was  to  begin  my  work  on  the 
morrow. 

I  found  the  grubhouse  and  the  ]:)unkhouse,  and  strolled  into 
the  former.  The  good  dame  in  chai'ge  presently  asked  me  what  I 
wanted.  I  i-eplied  laconically  "  Nothing."  Finding  this  pertinent 

42 


EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON 

question  did  not  hasten  my  departure  the  worthy  lady  went  on 
to  inform  me  that  the  liouse  was  only  for  use  of  the  lumberers 
during  mcal-timcs  and  was  not  a  sitting-room ;  and,  further,  she 
inquired  :  "  Have  you  been  in  a  lumber  camp  before  ?  "  Satisfy- 
ing her  curiosity  on  this  score  (though  as  to  whether  in  a  truthful 
manner  or  not  I  will  not  confess)  I  went  off  and  investigated  the 
log-dwelling  where  I  was  to  sleep  that  night — and  many  nights 
afterwards,  as  I  then  thought  ! 

The  bunkliouse  was  a  large  wooden  building,  a  kind  of  barn 
built  out  of  rough  logs.  I  pushed  open  the  door  and  looked  in. 
]\Iy  first  view  rather  damped  my  ardour  and  my  youthful 
ambition  of  becoming  a  Western  lumberer.  The  inside  of  the 
shack  was  lined  with  rows  of  bunks,  in  and  round  which  lay 
littered  about  in  hopeless  confusion  clothes,  boots  and  plenty 
of  dirt.  Having  feasted  my  eyes  on  this  romantic  touch  of  the 
Wild  W^est,  I  sat  down  on  a  tree  stump  outside  and  began  to 
consider  my  position.  Here  was  I,  a  young  man  of  twenty-one — • 
who  not  many  months  ago  prided  himself  on  his  immaculate 
garb  —sitting  on  a  mossy  tree  stump,  clothed  in  a  pair  of 
dungaree  pants  and  a  rough  shirt,  a  prospective  donkey-engine 
fireman  !  The  change  was  so  sudden  that  I  felt  somewhat  like 
a  fish  out  of  water.  Nevertheless,  I  cheered  up  and  consoled 
myself  with  the  thought  that  I  was  seeing  the  world  with  a 
vengeance  and  was  acquiring  plenty  of  experience  !  My  spirits 
rising,  I  began  to  reckon  that,  with  the  thirty-odd  dollars  I  had 
still  left  out  of  my  initial  capital,  after  two  months'  work — I 
decided  I  would  stop  that  long — I  should  be  worth  two  hundred 
dollars.  Tiie  idea  that  my  services  would  not  be  retained  for  just 
so  long  as  /  wished  never  entered  my  head.  Thus  calculating  I 
had  reached  in  my  mind  the  stage  where  I  owned  half  tlie  forests 
ol  >Vashi}igton,  when  my  reverie  was  ijitcrrupted  by  the  men 
returning  from  -woi'k.  Looking  up  I  s;nv  the  sun  was  just  setting. 

After  the  lumberers  had  had  a  perfunctory  wash  I  joined  them 
in  their  course  to  the  grubhouse.  We  all  sat  down  to  a  well-laid 
table.  Tlic  food  was  rough  and  plain,  but  v/holcsome  and  plenty 
of  it.  After  the  evening  meal  was  finished  the  men  sorted  them- 

43 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

selves  out — some  to  play  cards,  others  to  smoke  and  yarn.  Some 
lounged  in  their  hunks,  whilst  one  or  two  ground  their  axes 
blunted  by  the  day's  work.  An  axe  is  to  the  lumberer  what  the 
lariat  is  to  the  eowboy. 

I  sat  by  a  silent  observer.  Fragments  of  conversation  reached 
my  ears,  chiefly  on  the  subject  of  some  individual's  latest 
attempt  to  paint  red  the  "tenderloin  "  district  of  Portland.  I 
felt  rather  out  of  it  all  ;  for  I  was  in  a  little  world  strange  and 
new  to  me.  One  or  two  exchanged  a  few  remarks  with  me,  but 
by  the  majority  I  was  little  noticed.  When  asked  from  where  I 
had  come,  I  discreetly  replied:  "  From  South  America."  I  had 
no  wish  to  conceal  my  nationality,  which  was  obvious  to  them  ; 
but  I  will  frankly  admit  I  was  none  too  anxious  to  make  conspicu- 
ous the  fact  that  I  was  a  raw  Englishman  just  out  from  home. 
Even  in  the  short  time  that  I  had  been  then  in  these  Western 
States  I  had  noticed  that  so  often  when  a  Westerner  met  an 
Englishman  of  the  better  class  he  assumed  right  away  that  he 
was  up  against  a  "  doggoned  "  fool.  For  that  we  have  to  thank 
some  of  the  gilded  youths  and  remittanee-men  who  have  been 
our  forerunners.  I  had  been  told  many  times  before  I  had  come 
out  West  that  Englishmen  were  unpopular  in  these  Western 
States  ;  some  of  them  are — and  rightly  so  too.  The  tx^j^e  of 
Englishman  who,  though  he  has  made  America  his  home  and 
makes  his  living  from  that  country,  is  yet  always  belittling  the 
place  in  which  he  lives  is  unpopular  and  most  deservedly  so. 
An  instance  I  have  in  mind  is  the  case  of  one  Englishman,  a 
long  resident  in  California,  who  wrapped  every  child  of  his  at 
its  birth  in  a  Union  Jack.  Such  a  type  of  man  both  England  and 
America  can  well  do  without  !  In  his  own  eyes  lu  may  be  a 
patriot  in  exile  ;  in  mine  he  is  an  ungrateful  cur.  Another  type, 
and  perhaps  an  even  more  despicable  one,  is  represented  by  the 
Englishman  who  takes  out  his  ''  first  "  papers  whilst  in  America, 
and  on  the  slightest  opportunity  will  avail  himself  of  American 
protection.  In  different  surroundings  he  is  a  loyal  Britisher  and 
the  first  one  to  damn  the  Yanks.  With  such  a  type  also  both 
countries  can  well  dispense. 

44 


EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON 

In  all  my  wanderings  in  the  West — from  'Frisco  to  Klondyke 
and  back — I  found  without  exception  that  I  was  as  cordially 
treated  as  in  any  other  country  in  which  I  have  since  travelled. 
I  found  the  Western  American  a  man,  sincere,  and  ever  ready  to 
lend  a  helping  hand.  I  have  only  the  pleasantest  remembrances 
of  the  many  types  with  which  I  came  into  contact  whilst  roaming 
on  this  coast.  But  I  used  tact  and  further  made  use,  or  en- 
deavoured to,  of  the  brains  God  gave  me.  From  the  start  I 
avoided  odious  comparisons,  was  always  ready  to  acknowledge 
the  many  "  pros  "  that  life  in  these  states  had  over  that  in  my 
own  country,  and  had  no  intense  desire  to  remind  them  of  the 
also  many  "  cons."  I  endeavoured  everywhere  to  live  by  the 
axiom  of  doing  in  Rome  what  the  Romans  do,  so  far  as  was 
compatible  witli  common-sense.  Should  these  lines  by  chance 
meet  the  eye  of  any  young  Englishman  who  proposes  to  become 
a  settler  in  the  West — and  he  could  do  far  worse — let  him  just 
note  my  words  ;  and  if  he  acts  on  them,  he  will  never  add  to  the 
unpopularity  of  a  Britisher  in  the  Western  States  of  America, 
but  will  be  as  well  received  as  though  "  he  came  from  Missouri." 

One  by  one  the  men  turned  in  and  soon,  but  for  an  occasional 
word  here  and  there  and  the  deep  breathing  of  the  sleepers, 
silence  reigiied.  Outside  in  the  sleeping  forests  all  was  still.  I 
had  found  a  vacant  bunk  well  filled  with  straw  some  time  before  ; 
and  this  I  ap])ropriated.  I  lay  awake  listening  to  the  croaking  of 
the  frogs  and  meditating  on  my  new  surroundings  till  1  fell 
asleep.  It  was  then  about  nine  o'clock.  Men  in  lumber  camps 
keep  eai'ly  hours,  as  they  have  to  be  early  j-isei's. 

It  had  seemed  but  a  matter  of  an  hour  or  two  l)eforc  I  was 
awakened  by  the  movements  of  my  neighboiu's.  Rubl)ing  my 
eyes  and  looking  about  me  I  saw  it  was  just  daylight.  I  jumped 
out  and  put  on  my  clothes — at  least,  the  few  I  had  taken  off — 
and  joined  the  little  cj'cnvd  of  meii  outside,  each  waiting  his  turn 
at  t])e  one  tin  bowl  to  get  a  hasty  wash.  It  was  veiy  cold,  the 
sun  not  yet  having  risen,  and  the  de^v  had  been  very  heavy 
during  the  Jiight.  J>y  six  o'clock  we  were  all  seated  at  breakfast. 
Mush,  hot  cakes,  meat  and  eggs,  with  hot  eofi'ee  would  satisfy 

45 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  most  fastidious  man  ;  and  one  could  hardly  with  truth  apply 
that  adjective  to  a  lumberer. 

Half-an-hour  afterwards  the  whole  party  of  us  were  on  our 
way  through  the  damp  forests  towards  the  part  where  opera- 
tions were  going  on.  A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  the 
clearing  whei'c  the  hauling  apparatus  was  to  be  found,  together 
with  my  donkey  engine.  I  scrutinised  the  latter  as  well  as  the 
man  in  charge  of  it,  who,  on  seeing  me,  pointed  out  an  axe,  a 
two-handled  saw,  and  a  large  felled  tree,  and  without  any  waste 
of  words  told  me  to  get  to  work.  The  diameter  of  the  log  was 
about  three  feet,  and  with  the  long  saw  I  started  merrily  away 
to  saw  off  my  first  length.  This  I  did  without  any  mishap. 
However,  by  the  time  I  was  nearly  through  the  second  length 
I  began  to  feel  pretty  warm,  the  sun  by  then  having  risen  well 
into  the  sky.  The  heat  coupled  with  the  unusual  exercise  made 
me  very  thirsty,  and  I  drank  copiously — ^too  copiously — of  the 
cool  water  near  by.  Having  sawn  up  three  or  four  lengths  I  then 
started  to  chop  them  up  with  the  long-handled  axe.  Then  it 
Avas  that  I  found  the  job  was  worth  three  dollars  a  day  ;  then  it 
was  that  I  learnt  that  it  was  not  so  easy  as  it  looked  to  wield  an 
American  axe.  For  with  every  stroke  of  the  axe  I  wedged  it  so 
tightly  in  the  log  that  it  was  even  harder  work  to  withdraw  it. 
The  engineer  in  charge  of  the  donkey  engine  watched  for  a  short 
Avhile  my  awkward  effoits  with  an  amused  smile  on  his  face. 
I  also  caught  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  the  foreman  gazing 
at   my  acrobatic    feats    with    the    axe,    doubtless    wondering 
whether  he  ought  to  supply  me  with  a  pail  in  which  to  stand. ^ 
The  forincr  at  last  motioned  me  aside  and,  picking  up  an  iron 
wedge  and  a  nine-pound  hammer,  with  one  or  two  lieav}^  blows 
on  the  wedge  split  the  log  in  halves  ;  then,  with  a  few  deft  cuts 
with  the  axe  coinpleted  the  process  of  converting  the  log  into 
firewood. 

I  valiantly  strove  to  emulate  his  deeds  with  the  luunmer, 
wedge  and  axe,  and  added  a  little  to  the  stock  of  firewood  which 
— foitiuiately  for  tlie  hauling  operations — had  been  there  before 
^  A  precaution  taken  with  "tenderfoots''  to  avoid  an  accident. 

46 


EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON 

I  came.  I  also  gingerly  fed  the  furnace,  till  the  engineer  rather 
lost  patience  and  told  me  to  put  on  plenty  of  wood  and  not 
scraps. 

In  this  way  I  laboured  on,  taking  periodical  spells  of  rest,  pints 
of  water,  and  a  smoke  every  now  and  then,  till  the  whistle  blew 
for  the  midday  meal.  How  I  blessed  its  welcome  sound  !  Throw- 
ing down  my  axe  I  followed  the  rest  of  the  men  back  to  the  grub- 
house  where  we  were  soon  seated  before  a  good  spread.  I  was, 
however,  more  thirsty  than  hungry  after  my  unusual  exertions. 
Having  finished  the  meal  I  lit  my  pipe  and,  whilst  strolling 
towards  the  bunkliouse,  I  met  the  contractor  who  had  employed 
me.  He  stopped  and  said  briefly  that  he  thought  the  job  of 
firing  was  too  heavy  for  mc — in  other  words,  he  was  telling  me 
to  "  get."  In  my  denseness  I  did  not  perceive  that  he  was 
leather  kindly  telling  me  that  I  was  no  darn  good  for  the  job 
and  was  "  firing  "  me  ;  so  I  calmly  started  to  reassure  him  of 
my  ability  soon  to  get  used  to  the  work.  However,  he  made  his 
meaning  plainer  and  I  realised  that  I  was  "fired."  He  paid  me 
one  dollar  twenty-five  cents  for  my  morning's  work  ;  I  repacked 
my  few  belongings  and  slowly  returned  to  the  junction  a  sadder 
and  wiser  youth. 

After  all,  I  thought,  it  is  only  a  change  from  the  active  to  the 
passive  mood  :  I  came  to  fire,  but  was  fired  !  I  further  consoled 
myself  with  the  thought  that  even  getting  the  sack  was  experi- 
ence ;  so  what  had  I  to  complain  about  ?  The  humour,  too,  of  the 
situation  was  by  no  means  little  :  all  my  dreams  of  wealth  and 
of  stopping  there  for  at  least  two  months  being  so  rudely  dis- 
pelled by  the  lack  of  appreciation  of  my  services  on  the  part  of 
my  employer. 

I  did  not  intend,  however,  to  be  content  with  this  short 
glimp:^e  of  a  iumbcr  camp  so  I  decided  to  visit  some  of  the  other 
camps  in  the  vicinity,  where  perhaps  I  might  strike  a  softer  job. 
I  got  i]  bed  that  night  at  the  lumber  store,  the  storekeeper  there 
being  a  very  good  chap,  who  took  pity  on  my  inexperience.  He 
even  took  back  the  leather  gloves  that  I  had  purchased  on  credit. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  got  on  one  of  the  lumber  ti'ains 

47 


A  waxdp:hp:r's  trail 

bound  for  Camp  3,  some  miles  off.  The  train  consisted  of 
about  twelve  long  flat  cars,  each  laden  with  logs  of  some  thirty 
to  forty  feet  in  length,  securely  fastened  to  the  car  w^ith  chains. 
The  logs  were  on  their  way  to  the  river  station,  where  they  were 
to  be  rafted  and  towed  up  the  river  to  the  saw-mills  round  Port- 
land. The  dimensions  of  these  rafts  are  very  great,  some  of  them 
containing  over  a  million  feet  of  timber. 

The  train  on  its  way  passed  through  great  stretches  of  cleai'ed 
forest  which  looked  very  barren  and  desolate,  the  ground  being 
littered  with  broken  and  chari'ed  timber.  Fire  so  often  follows 
in  the  wake  of  the  lumbei'er  and  completes  the  destruction  of 
what  young  timber  is  not  already  destroyed  in  the  extraction  of 
the  felled  trees,  which  very  ficquently  break  much  good  timber 
in  their  fall.  America,  it  is  to  be  feared,  is  living  very  heavily 
on  her  capital  in  this  industry  ;  for  the  supply  of  Oregon  pine 
must  soon  come  to  an  end,  if  the  extraction  is  continued  to  be 
carried  on  in  such  a  reckless  and  wasteful  fashion.  The  term 
"  Oregon  pine,"  by  the  way,  is  rather  a  misnomer,  as  the  greater 
part  of  the  timber  in  that  state  and  that  of  Washington  is  the 
Douglas  fir,  spruce  and  hemlock  also  abounding  in  fairly  large 
quantities. 

On  arrival  at  the  camp  I  approached  the  foreman  for  a  job. 
He  was  a  taciturn  Scotsman,  concealing,  however,  iinich  kind- 
ness under  his  rough  and  rugged  demeanour.  He  told  me  that  at 
the  moment  there  was  nothing  doing,  but  that  if  I  liked  to  wait 
a  few  days  sojnething  ^^'ould  turn  up.  I  thereon  ;iskcd  him  if  I 
might  go  over  the  camp  and  watch  operations.  "■  Why,  sure  !  " 
was  the  ready  response. 

I  had  my  evening  meal  that  night  in  the  large  grubhouse 
of  the  camp,  where  thei'c  were  seated  some  fifty  or  sixty  me]i. 
During  the  meal  I  had  occasion  to  ask  my  iuigli])()iu'  to  ])ass  nu; 
the  treacle.  The  following  rather  aniviiijig  dialr)giie  tlien  ensued  ; 
'■  AVill  you  ])lease  pass  me  the  treacle  V  "  "  How's  that  ?  "'  was 
the  grunt  that  reached  my  eai  ^.  I  repeated  my  ([uestion,  though 
this  time  with  some  little  alteration  :  "  Pass  me  the  treacle — that 
\  cllow  tlo])e  over  tlieie."  It  was  no  good  ;  certaijily  I  got  what  I 

48 


EXPERIENCES  IN  OREGON  ANT)  WASHINGTON 

wanted,  but  with  the  curt  rejoinder:  "Say,  can't  you  speak 
United  States  ?  "  With  some  heat  I  snapped  back :  "  What  the 
hell  do  you  call  it  then  ?  "  "We  call  that  molasses  !  "  was  the 
surly  grunt  I  received  in  reply.  I  did  not  pursue  the  conversa- 
tion any  fiu-ther,  feeling  that  it  was  not  exactly  wise  to  argue  the 
point,  the  odds  there  being  sixty  Westerners  to  one  Englishman. 
Unfortunately  I  am  unable  to  reproduce  the  unimitatable  drawl 
of  that  Westerner,  or  the  drawling  "  a  "  in  "  can't  "  and 
"  molasses."  I  leave  it  to  my  reader's  imagination. 

In  a  lumber  camp  it  is  a  great  breach  of  etiquette  to  be  polite  ! 
If  you  want  an  article  or  dish  of  food  that  is  on  the  table  but  not 
immediately  in  front  of  you,  it  is  not  expected  of  you  to  trouble 
your  neighbour  who  is  busily  engaged  eating — all  you  have  to 
do  is  to  reach  over  and  get  it  yourself.  That  in  doing  so  you  brush 
your  sleeve  over  your  neighbour's  plate,  or  knock  his  food  from 
off  his  fork,  why  that's  a  mere  bagatelle  ! 

All  the  next  two  days  I  spent  wandering  through  the  forests 
and  watching  the  work  that  was  going  on.  I  first  visited  the 
part  where  felling  operations  were  in  progress.  The  lumberers 
in  this  occupation  work  in  couples.  The  tree  to  be  felled  is  first 
selected  by  them,  and  then  the  best  place  where  it  is  to  fall 
is  afterwards  chosen,  to  avoid  the  smashing  of  the  surround- 
ing timber  as  much  as  possible. 

When  I  came  on  the  scene  the  lumberers  were  engaged  in 
cutting  with  their  axes  a  wedge  in  the  tree — on  the  side  where 
it  was  to  fall.  The  tree  must  have  been  nearly  three  hundred  feet 
in  height,  straight  as  a  ship's  mast,  and  it  must  have  measured 
fully  live  feet  through  the  centre.  With  regular  and  rhythmic 
blows  of  their  axes  the  two  men,  facing  each  other,  had  soon 
cut  into  a  third  of  the  thickness.  They  then  started  on  the 
opposite  side,  sawing  obliquely  downwards,  using  a  large- 
toothed  t^\-o-handled  saw,  one  man  at  either  handle.  After 
steadily  sawing  for  nearly  an  hour,  an  ever-increasing  lean  of 
the  tree  towards  the  wedged  side^ — away  from  the  sawers- — and 
an  ominous  cracking  warned  one  of  its  approaching  fall.  A  warn- 
ing cry  of  "  Timber  !  "  then  rang  through  the  forest.  After  a  few 
D  49 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

more  cuts  with  the  saw  the  stately  monarcli  of  the  forest  swayed, 
staggered,  and  then  dipped  slowly  forward.  With  a  crash  that 
echoed  far  and  wide  the  towering  pine  fell,  smashing  many  young 
trees  to  fragments  in  its  fall  and  shaking  the  earth. 

The  fallen  tree  was  then  sawn  up  into  Icng-ths  of  varying 
dimensions  under  the  directions  of  the  "  scaler."  The  logs  were 
then  dragged  by  wire  hawsers  attached  to  the  donkey  engine 
through  the  forest  to  an  available  spot,  there  to  be  loaded  on  to 
the  railroad  trucks,  three  logs  to  one  truck.  The  strain  on  the 
wires  that  haul  these  logs  through  the  forest  is  tremendous  ; 
and  the  vicinity,  where  the  blocks  or  sheaves  through  which  the 
wire  ropes  run,  is  a  veritable  danger  zone.  Under  the  heavy 
strain  the  sheaves,  though  fastened  as  securely  as  possible  to 
trees,  very  often  "  carry  away  "  ;  in  doing  so  they  would  sever 
the  limb  from  any  human  being  they  struck  in  their  flight  as 
cleanly  as  would  a  shell  from  a  twelve-inch  gun.  Despite  the 
most  careful  precautions,  accidents  such  as  this  and  others  occur 
only  too  frequently  in  the  lumber  camps  ;  though  perhaps  not 
so  frequently  as  in  the  saw-mills. 

After  a  couple  of  days  at  this  camp  and  no  job  having  turned 
up,  I  decided  to  make  for  the  I'ivcr  again  and  catch  a  boat  back 
to  Portland.  With  this  in  mind  I  shouldered  my  pack  and  started 
off  for  a  small  place  called  Stella,  a  distance  of  six  miles,  where 
I  was  told  I  could  catch  a  river  boat. 

I  thanked  the  grim  old  foi-cmanfor  his  kindness  in  giving  me 
the  opportunity  of  getting  a  practical  insight  into  the  lumbering 
industry,  of  the  working  of  whicli  I  Iiad  obtained  a  good  glimpse, 
though  certainly  not  as  much  as  I  liad  anticipated  when  I  was  a 
prospective  donkey-engine  fireman. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  wlien  I  set  out  with  my  pack  on 
my  back  for  my  destination — Stella. 


50 


\    I  111-:    I  .r\i  i;i:k    \"  \ki  • 


CHAPTER    IV 

TRAVEL   IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES 

AFTER  a  long  and  weary  tramp  I  reached  the  httle  town 
of  Stella  shortly  after  sundown.  Stella  is  one  of  the 
many  little  wooden  settlements  that  lie  along  the 
Colmnbia,  where  the  timber  from  the  neighbouring  forests  finds 
an  outlet  ;  it  possesses  one  or  two  saw-mills  fed  by  the  locality. 
As  is  the  case  with  many  of  the  small  places  on  the  Columbia, 
Stella  owned  a  small  but  flourishing  industry — that  of  scouring 
the  river  and  picking  up  any  stray  logs  tliat  had  broken  away, 
or  had  been  broken  away,  from  the  great  rafts  that  pass  by  on 
tlieir  way  to  the  saw-mills  in  and  round  Portland.  The  stray  logs 
were  captured,  brought  in  and  sold  to  the  local  saw-mill,  "  no 
questions  being  asked."  One  man,  who  used  a  small  motor  boat 
in  this  occupation,  told  me  a  good  day  was  worth  as  much  as 
fifty  dollars  and  more. 

On  finding  that  the  river  boat  was  not  due  till  midnight  I 
looked  about  me.  Anchored  off  the  town  was  a  large  Norwegian 
saili]!g  ship  loading  a  cargo  of  timber  for  the  East.  Making 
inquiries  as  to  what  there  was  doing  m  the  place  in  the  way  of 
work,  I  learnt  that  the  sailing  ship  was  short-handed  of  long- 
shoremen^ — ^the  men  employed  in  the  work  of  loading  the  ship. 
I  asked  my  inforner^ — a  huge  raw-boned  Swede — what  the  work 
was  like,  to  whir  a  he  replied:  "  Why,  quite  easy  !  "  I  thought 
it  might  be  for  him,  all  bone  and  nuisclc,  but  what  it  would  be 
to  ]ne  was  quite  another  question.  However,  I  decided  to  tackle 
the  captain  on  the  matter.  On  my  asking  him  for  a  job  he 
jcjilied:  "Do  you  want  to  work  ? — well,  be  down  at  the  ship 
to-morrow  sharp  at  seven  !  "  The  rate  of  pay  was  fifty  cents 
an  hour,  with  a  furtlicr  twenty-five  cents  an  hour  for  overtime. 

51 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

This  class  of  work — longshoring — is  the  best  paid  unskilled 
labour  on  the  Western  coast  ;  and  consequently  in  America 
as  the  rate  of  wages  in  the  west  is  much  higher  than  that 
on  the  east  coast.  The  pay  is  good,  but  the  work  is  of  the 
hardest. 

Having  decided  on  my  course  of  action  I  hired  a  room  at  the 
one  small  hotel  in  the  town  and  turned  in  early,  as  I  felt  that  I 
should  need  a  good  night's  rest  in  view  of  next  day's  programme. 
With  my  last  failure  clearly  in  my  mind  it  had  not  been  without 
some  hesitation  that  I  had  taken  on  this  job  ;  for  I  was  then 
beginning  to  realise  that  hard  manual  work  needed  a  lot  of 
practice.  However,  I  succeeded  in  lulling  my  misgivings  and, 
like  them,  was  soon  asleep. 

I  was  down  at  the  ship  sharp  at  seven  in  the  morning.  The 
boat  was  lying  about  a  hundred  yards  off  the  shore,  and  to  reach 
her  one  had  to  cross  over  floating  rafts  of  railroad  sleepers  with 
which  the  ship  was  being  loaded.  As  many  of  these  sleepers  were 
floating  singly  in  the  water  I  had  to  take  great  care  in  stepping, 
or  a  ducking  would  have  ensued.  I  reached  the  ship  in  safety, 
though  not  without  one  or  two  hair-breadth  escapes  from  going 
into  the  river. 

The  job  I  had  was  that  of  stacking  up  the  sleepers  in  rows  in 
the  hold.  As  the  timber  was  very  wet,  and  the  hold  fairly  high, 
the  work  was  by  no  means  light  ;  but  I  was  determined  that  I 
would  not  be  beaten  in  this  attempt  to  hold  my  own.  And  I 
won  out  ;  though  not  v»-ithout  feeling  very  weary  and  sore  by 
evening,  when  my  hands  were  much  blistered  and  torn  through 
handling  the  rough  timber.  We  knocked  off  work  at  five  o'clock. 
I  returned  to  my  room  feeling  very  tired  but  very  happy  ! 
Iiideed  I  felt  as  pleased  with  myself  then  and  as  proud  of  my 
victory  as  though  I  had  graduated  from  Balliol.  My  youthful 
satisfaction  at  that  moment  may  perhaps  not  have  been  as 
childisli  as  it  might  seem,  for  the  encouragement  given  mc  by 
that  moral  victory — it  was  more  of  a  moral  victory  than  of  a 
physical  one — was  not  inconsiderable.  It  showed  me  what  I  could 
do  if  I  set  my  mind  to  it — and  tried  !  Had  I  been  sacked  at  noon 

52 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

as  in  my  preceding  job,  I  think  there  would  have  been  a  far 
deeper  sense  of  shame  than  of  humour. 

I  worked  all  the  next  day  ;  but  as  the  day  following  was 
Sunday,  when  work  was  at  a  standstill,  and  as  I  further  learnt 
that  the  work  for  the  next  few  days  would  be  irregular  the 
supply  of  timber  being  near  exhaustion,  I  decided  to  return  to 
Portland.  With  earnings  amounting  to  nine  dollars  in  my  pocket 
and  my  blanket  roll  on  my  back,  I  caught  the  river  boat  that 
evening.  Early  the  next  morning  we  stopped  at  Rainier,  where 
I  found  the  Strathyre  still  lying.  I  decided  therefore  to  spend  the 
Sunday  with  my  old  friends  on  board  and  return  by  train  to 
Portland  on  the  morrow. 

On  my  relating  my  experiences  to  the  officers  on  board  the 
Strathyre  they  were  at  first  rather  sceptical,  but  my  raw  and 
blistered  hands  fully  convinced  them  of  the  truth  of  my  tale. 
To  my  dismay  they  one  and  all  began  to  reproach  me  for  being 
so  foolish  as  to  do  manual  work.  They  could  not,  or  would  not, 
see  that  I  wanted  the  experience. 

On  the  following  day  I  returned  to  Portland,  though  not  till 
I  had  inquired  at  the  saw-mill  at  Rainier  if  there  were  any  work 
available  for  me,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the  chief  officer  who 
was  really  quite  impatient  about  my  methods. 

For  a  few  days  after  my  return  to  Portland  efforts  to  obtain 
some  work  were  ineffectual,  though  I  made  many  visits  to  the 
various  saw-mills  in  the  vicinity.  Unfortunately  also  the  survey- 
ing parties,  which  go  out  each  spring,  were  filled  up,  and 
consequently  there  was  no  opportunity  for  me  to  join. 

Whilst  visiting  the  saw-mills,  I  was  very  interested  in  observ- 
ing the  working  of  the  ingenious  and  almost  human-like 
machinery  there  in  use.  I  watched  with  fascination  the  large 
band-saws  cutting  through  huge  rough  logs  with  as  much  ease 
as  though  they  were  cheese,  the  working  of  the  ingenious 
"  hands  "  and  "  dogs  "  which  so  accurately  regulated  the 
movements  of  the  timber — in  short,  all  the  machinery  that 
reduced  the  parent  logs  to  strips  of  timber  of  any  size  required. 

During  one  of  my  visits  I  was  the  unwilling  witness  of  an 

53 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

accident  ol  a  very  ugly  description.  Whilst  one  of  the  large 
saws  was  revolving  at  a  very  great  speed,  cutting  through  the 
rough  log,  a  splinter  flew  off  and  in  its  terrible  flight  struck 
one  of  the  mill  hands.  The  s])linter,  over  a  foot  long  and  of  some 
inches  in  thickness,  pierced  the  right  arm  of  the  unfortunate 
man  and  penetrated  his  chest,  ])inning  the  arm  to  the  body.  It 
AMIS,  of  course,  a  fatal  accident — mifortunately  one  of  many  ! 

It  was  during  this  period  of  inactivity  in  Portland  that  I 
witnessed  my  fuvst  baseball  game,  the  town  team  playing  tliat 
from  Oakland  and  the  former  winning  by  seven  ])oints  to  five. 
I  am  afi'aid  that,  being  igiiorant  of  the  liner  points  of  the  game, 
I  could  not  a])pi'eciate  it  as  much  as  did  the  spectators,  who 
became  Avildly  enthusiastic.  I  admired,  however,  the  clean 
fielding  and  the  force  the  ])iteher  ])ut  into  his  thi'ows.  One 
incident  rather  marred  the  game  in  my  eyes,  and  that  was 
when  one  of  tire  players  attempted  to  strike  the  umpire,  ])eing 
dissatished  by  his  decision.  For  this  the  player  was  turned  off 
the  field,  and  most  rightly  so  too  ;  but  I  gathered  from  the 
little  impression  the  incident  seemed  to  make  on  the  crowd 
that  it  was  by  no  means  an  unusual  one. 

After  a  week's  inactivity  I  read  an  advertisement  in  one  of 
the  newspapers  for  men  required  for  strawberry  picking  at 
Hood  River.  I  interviewed  the  people  in  connection,  and 
arranged  to  go  up  there,  after  listening  to  eloquent  accounts 
of  the  money  to  be  earned  and  of  the  easiness  of  the  work. 

Early  the  next  morning,  therefore,  I  caught  a  river  boat — 
going  upstream  this  time — to  Hood  River.  We  passed  on  our 
way  some  extremely  pretty  scenery,  and  soon  we  caught  sight 
of  the  beautiful  snow-capped  Mount  Hood.  The  little  steamer 
had  great  difhculty  in  negotiating  the  ra]Mds  in  parts  of  the 
river,  and  cautious  navigation  was  most  essential,  as  much  of 
the  river-bed  was  strewn  with  boulders  and  rocks.  But  we 
reached  our  destination  at  midday  without  incident. 

Waiting  for  the  steamer  at  the  small  landing-stage,  in  order 
to  return  to  Portland,  was  a  small  crowd  of  men  and  women, 
most  of  whom  had  come  u])  a  few  days  previously  on  the  same 

54 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

errand  as  that  wliich  liad  now  brought  mc  up.  They  wei-c  one 
and  all  disgusted  witli  the  whole  affair.  They  told  us  (there 
were  other  gulls  as  well  as  myself  bound  oil  the  same  errand) 
that  there  Avas  not  even  a  living  wage  to  be  earned  and  the 
work  was  exceedingly  trying. 

Though  somewhat  disconeerted  by  this  piece  of  news  it  did 
not  wony  me  much,  as  it  was  all  fresh  experience.  I  felt  also 
that  the  beautiful  scenery  around  fully  compensated  me  for 
the  small  outlay  in  the  shape  of  the  two  dollars  for  my  passage. 
The  others  were,  however,  not  so  easily  consoled.  Beautiful 
scenery,  unfortunately,  won't  feed  a  wife  and  six  children. 

On  making  inquiries  I  found  that  I  had  in  front  of  me  a  good 
two  hours'  walk  in  ordei-  to  reach  the  farm  at  which  I  had 
arranged  to  work.  Strong  was  the  farmer's  name,  and  there 
apparently  seemed  to  be  about  a  dozen  farmers  of  that  name 
in  the  neighbourhood  ;  anyway  there  were  two  and  I,  with  m}^ 
usual  luck,  was  directed  to  the  wrong  one,  who,  of  course,  lived 
in  exactly  the  opposite  direction  to  where  my  man  did.  After 
wandering  miles  about  the  country  I  eventually  reached  my 
destination  not  far  off  sundown.  I  found  quite  a  motley  crowd 
on  the  farm,  of  all  ages  and  of  all  descriptions.  It  was  not  long- 
before  the  evening  meal  was  ready  ;  I  did  ample  justice  to  it 
after  my  wanderings  in  the  country  round.  As  it  did  not  get 
dark  till  about  seven  I  was  asked  after  tea  whethc]'  I  would 
start  in  right  then.  Though  not  feeling  at  all  anxious  to  start 
"  grafting  "  at  that  hour  of  the  day,  still  I  thought  it  would  be 
more  politic  to  do  so.  Accordingly  I  did.  The  job  given  me, 
however,  was  only  to  pack  the  boxes  filled  with  strawberries 
into  crates  for  transport  to  Portland  by  rail.  I  did  this  work 
till  dark,  and,  on  learning  the  rate  of  pay  for  this  class  of  work, 
I  calculated  I  had  earned  the  huge  sum  of  nine  cents  !  Then 
I  understood  the  reasons  that  little  band  of  disgusted  grumblers 
had  in  i-cturning  to  Portland.  After  this  job  was  ovei',  I  was 
told  to  give  a  hand  with  another  young  fellow  to  Iiarness  a 
team  (about  which  I  knew  precious  little)  ;  and  when  the  crates 
were  all  packed  into  the  cart  off  we  started  to  the  railway 

55 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

station  some  five  miles  distant.  It  was  a  lovely  night,  though 
rather  cold  ;  but  in  company  with  the  young  American — a 
kindred  spirit — I  fully  enjoyed  the  drive 

On  our  return  I  found  that  there  was  no  room  for  me  to  sleep 
in  the  farmhouse  and,  as  all  the  outhouses  were  also  full,  I  had 
to  select  the  roomiest  cart  I  could  find.  This  I  filled  with  hay, 
making  it  as  comfortable  as  I  could  with  the  modest  material 
at  my  disposal.  Wrapping  myself  up  in  my  blanket  it  was  not 
very  long  before  I  was  asleep.  I  did  not  have,  however,  a  very 
restful  night,  as  it  was  very  cold  and  the  dew  was  extremely 
heavy.  At  daybreak  I  left  my  "  downy  couch  "  and  started 
strawberry  picking.  My  reader  may  possibly  imagine,  as  did  I 
before  I  started,  that  this  kind  of  work  is  not  very  arduous,  or 
in  American  parlance  that  it  was  a  "  snap."  Quite  the  contrary, 
let  me  assure  him  !  Stooping  for  hours  on  end  picking  the 
berries,  with  limbs  cramped,  an  exertion  trying  and  yet 
insufficient  to  bring  out  a  perspiration  under  the  scorching  rays 
of  the  sun,  was  arduous  work.  The  monotony,  too,  was  deadly  ! 
Give  me  any  time  a  longshoreman's  work  in  preference  to  such 
a  job  as  that  !  It  was  the  worst  job  I  struck  in  my  six  years 
of  wandering — ^save  writing  this  book  ! 

Having  plodded  on  for  two  or  three  hours  and  having 
reached  the  end  of  a  row  by  which  ran  the  main  road,  I  decided 
to  have  a  stretch  and  a  smoke.  Whilst  thus  occupied,  a  man 
who  for  some  little  while  had  been  leaning  over  the  rails  lazily 
watching  my  labours — a  wise  man  ! — started  conversing  with 
me.  Glad  to  avail  myself  of  any  break  in  the  monotony  and 
quite  oblivious  of  the  black  looks  of  the  farmei',  who,  however, 
had  "  no  kick  coming,"  as  we  were  all  working  on  piece-work,  I 
made  myself  comfortable  and  chatted  away  merrily  with  my 
gossiping  companion.  The  subject  of  our  yarning  turned  on 
doings  in  Alaska,  where  my  companion  told  me  he  had  many 
friends.  He  spoke  so  eloquently  about  this  country  that  I  then 
and  there  registered  a  determination  to  visit  that  part  of  the 
world  before  I  left  the  shores  of  North  America.  What  little 
things  decide  oiu'  ])ath  in  life  ! 

56 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

I  resumed  work  and  continued  till  eleven  o'clock,  when  the 
sun  began  to  be  intolerably  warm.  I  had  by  then  picked  thirty- 
six  boxes  of  berries,  having  on  the  Avhole  worked,  /  considered, 
like  a  Trojan.  At  the  rate  of  one  cent  a  box  I  had  earned  thirty- 
six  cents,  which,  with  my  nine  cents  on  the  preceding  evening, 
brought  my  total  earnings  to  the  sum  of  forty-five  cents  ! 
Many  others  like  myself  were  pretty  disgusted  with  this  state 
of  affairs,  especially  as  the  cost  of  our  board  nearly  equalled  our 
earnings.  Having  learnt  that  a  neighbouring  farmer  was  paying 
a  half-cent  more  per  box,  I  suggested  a  strike.  My  motion  was 
adopted  ;  so  we  all  proceeded  en  masse  to  demand  this  increase 
in  wage,  threatening  otherwise  to  quit  in  a  bunch.  Much  to  my 
secret  disgust  our  strike  was  successful  and  the  price  raised  to 
one  and  a  half  cents  per  box. 

The  young  American,  with  whom  I  had  become  by  now  quite 
friendly — -Abe  by  name  (no  one  makes  use  of  surnames  out 
West  in  this  stratum  of  life ;  most  generally  one  is  called  "  young 
fellow  "  if  one's  first  name  is  not  known) — told  me  that  his 
brother  had  just  come  up  from  Portland  and  was  working  on 
the  next  farm.  As  his  brother  had  with  him  a  tent  he  was  going 
to  join  him  ;  and  he  suggested  that  I  came  along  too,  I  readily 
agreed.  Without  informing  our  farmer  of  our  intentions,  and 
leaving  our  wages  in  lieu  of  our  board  bill — a  poor  exchange  ! — 
we  decamped  during  the  day  with  our  belongings.  The  neigh- 
bouring farmer  welcomed  us  two  recruits  heartily,  for  labour 
was  very  scarce — a  fact  not  much  to  be  wondered  at  in  view 
of  the  poor  pay,  which  though  the  farmers  could  not  afford  to 
increase. 

We  pitched  our  tent  and  soon  had  made  ourselves  comfort- 
able, the  farmer's  Avife  sending  us  out  some  ice-cream.  I  am 
afraid  none  of  us  treated  our  situation  very  seriously,  regarding 
the  whole  affair  as  a  sort  of  picnic.  We  played  cards  and  yarned 
till  late  in  the  evening. 

My  two  "  pardners  "  were  from  St  Louis,  the  elder,  Emory, 
having  been  till  quite  recently  a  manager  of  a  large  flour-mill  in 
that  city,  but  through  some  disagreement  he  had  thrown  up 

57 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

his  billet  and  come  West  to  look  round.  His  younger  brother 
had  spent  most  of  Iris  life  on  a  farm  and  had  also  responded  to 
the  call  of  the  West. 

We  were  all  up  by  the  sun  and  worked  industriously  till 
eleven  o'clock,  without  a  break,  in  the  full  heat  of  the  sun. 
When  knocking  off,  our  earnings  were  about  sixty  cents  each. 
We  were  all  feeling  very  "  headachy  "  after  the  many  hours  in 
the  open  ;  so  we  point-blank  refused  to  start  work  again  till  in 
the  cool  of  the  afternoon.  The  farmer  rather  unwisely  said  too 
much  ;  so  all  three  of  us,  with  ti'ue  Western  independence, 
quitted  our  jobs.  Having  packed  up  our  belongings  we  returned 
to  the  town,  there  to  indulge  in  ice-cream. 

We  had  some  time  to  wait  before  the  steamer's  arrival. 
Fortunately,  however,  we  were  kept  enlivened  by  a  band  of 
picturesque  cowboys  who,  mounted  on  fine  young  ponies, 
were  raising  Cain  all  over  the  town.  It  was  a  glimpse  of  the 
old  days,  now  almost  a  thing  of  the  past  ! 

There  were  many  others  like  ourselves  i-eturning  to  Portland, 
and  a  motley  crowd  of  dirty  gypsies  we  all  looked.  Shortly  after 
sunset  the  river  boat  put  in  an  appearance  and  picked  up  its 
load  of  grubby  humanity.  As  none  of  us  three  was  flush  of 
money  we  decided  not  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  bed,  finding 
instead  nooks  about  the  boat  in  which  to  curl  up.  I  was  for- 
tunate, as  the  night  was  cold,  in  finding  a  warm  corner  near 
the  engines  ;  with  a  piece  of  old  sacking  as  my  mattress,  and  my 
blanket  as  iny  pillow,  I  was  able  to  get  a,  fairly  good  sleep.  I 
say  "  fairly,"  as  eveiy  now  and  then  I  would  be  disturbed  by  the 
lurching  of  some  fellow-passenger  who  had  been  trying  to  find 
consolation  fo)- his  troubles  in  rye  whisky.  We  i-eached  Portland 
at  daybreak. 

Our  next  step  was  to  find  some  work  of  a  different  kind ;  we 
found  it  at  the  Albina  docks  resacking  flour  !  It  appeared  that 
certain  merchants  in  Shanghai  had  ordered  a  special  class  of 
flour  known  by  a  certain  brand.  None  of  this  flour  at  the  moment 
being  available  our  employei's  were  despatching  a  cheaper 
kind,  but  pouring  it  into  properly  branded  sacks.  Our  work 

5S 


k 


■jAll  ^1 53  !H  55 


;,„gll>»Hmi 


wh,    (  )i;i;(  ,t  '\ 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

was  to  pour  the  contents  of  one  fifty-pound  sack  into  another, 
the  latter  requiring  a  deal  of  dumping  do\vn  before  it  would 
hold  all  the  licnii-.  It  was  not  by  any  means  thrilling  woi-k  and 
was  certainly  very  tiring.  Emory  gave  it  U])  after  the  iirst  day  ; 
he  had  had  enough,  his  knuckles  being  all  torn  by  the  rough 
sacks.  Abe  and  I  stuck  it  out  another  day  ;  and  then  we  quit. 
We,  too,  had  had  enough,  our  hands  being  quite  I'aw  and  toj-n. 
1  fiu'ther  juanaged  to  get  one  hand  poisoned  froin  the  green 
paint  on  the  sacks.  We  had  each  earned  a  little  over  three 
dollars  a  day  ;  so  wc  were  still  in  funds  ! 

The  only  solitary  advantage  about  our  job  was  that  we  \vere 
always  able  to  obtain  very  comfortable  seats  in  the  tramcars  on 
oin-  return  in  the  evening  to  town.  As  we  were  covered  f  I'oni  head 
to  foot  with  flour,  well-dressed  people  coiuteously  made  way 
for  us.  This  was  the  only  redeeming  virtue  the  job  had  ! 

After  three  days  of  idleness,  poking  our  noses  into  "  dime  " 
shows,  our  hands  giving  us  all  excellent  excuse,  we  decided  to 
go  farming.  We  selected  a  i-ancli  in  Oregon  State.  A  three  hours' 
train  ride  through  very  pretty  country  brought  us  to  the  place, 
by  name  Broadmead,  near  where  the  ranch  was  situated.  The 
country  through  which  we  had  passed  was  all  well  cultivated, 
fruit  farms  being  es])ccially  noticeable.  It  was  pouring  when  we 
alighted  from  the  train  and  commenced  tiudging  towards  the 
farm  whei'c  we  hoped  to  get  some  employment.  Having 
covered  a  few  sloppy  miles  wet  reached  the  ranch  and  were  all 
hired  forthwith — rathej-  to  oui-  surprise.  I  did  not  say  much  as 
to  my  qualifications  as  a  fai-mer,  or  fai-m  hand  ;  consequently, 
as  my  companions  were  used  to  the  work  I  was  hired  with  them, 
the  foreman  remarking  that  I  looked  willing.  I  could  then  look 
most  things  !  P^ven  wise  ! 

That  same  day  we  started  work.  We  were  all  set  to  the  task 
of  sifting  landplaster  ;  and  again  were  completely  whitened  . 
We  had  very  decent  quarters  in  the  farmhouse — on  the  top 
floor,  the  six  other  farm  hands  occupying  the  lower.  Our  wages 
were  one  dollar  twenty-five  cents  a  day  and  "■  all  found."  The 
food  was  excellent,  similar  to  that  in  the  lumber  camps.  We  had 

59 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

as  much  as  we  could  eat,  with  milk  and  cream  in  abundance  as 
the  ranch  had  six  cows  all  of  which  were  in  milk,  and  the  dairy 
produce  was  all  at  our  disposal.  We  had  to  be  up  at  five  in  the 
morning,  before  the  sun  had  risen  ;  by  six  o'clock  we  were 
working  in  the  fields. 

After  our  landplaster-sifting  job  was  finished,  we  three  were 
sent  into  the  neighbouring  woods  to  cut  timber.  We  went  off  to 
work  with  axes  and  saws.  It  was  chilly  at  that  hour  of  the 
morning  and  the  woods  were  very  wet,  as  it  had  been  raining 
fairly  steadily  for  the  last  few  days.  After  a  ten  minutes'  trudge 
we  reached  the  spot  where  we  were  to  work. 

We  took  turns  in  felling  the  trees  (the  most  popular  work 
amongst  us)  and  then  in  shaping  and  sawing  up  the  logs.  Here 
I  had  the  opportunity  of  putting  into  practice  what  little  I  had 
seen  and  learnt  in  the  lumber  camp  from  which  I  had  been  so 
ignominiously  ''  fired."  We  knocked  off  work  at  eleven  o'clock 
for  our  midday  meal,  resuming  work  at  one  o'clock.  Our  labours 
for  the  day  ended  at  six  in  the  evening. 

Having  had  our  tea  we  were  all  soon  ready  for  ])cd.  after  ten 
hours'  hard  work — more  or  less — in  the  forests.  To  be  frank, 
none  of  us  overworked,  as  the  foi'cman  was  a  most  accom- 
modating fellow,  never  worrying  himself  to  inspect  the  number 
of  cords  of  wood  we  cut  per  day.  On  piece-work  I  fear  we 
should  not  have  made  a  fortune  ! 

After  three  days  of  this  work  we  were  put  to  hoeing  hops,  or 
at  least  to  hoeing  the  weeds  round  the  hops,  though  I  fear  at 
times  in  the  midst  of  some  heated  argument  luany  young  and 
innocent  hops,  as  well  as  weeds,  were  cut  off  in  their  prime. 
This  work  was  not  half  so  interesting  as  that  which  we  had  been 
])reviously  doing,  and  after  a  week  of  it  the  monotony  Ijcgan  to 
make  me  rather  restless. 

Sundav  was  a  veritable  day  of  rest.  The  three  of  us  spent  the 
morning  swiirmiing  in  a  creek  wli.ieli  ran  through  the  ranch,  the 
wash  doing  us  no  harm.  I  further  washed  one  of  the  two  shirts 
still  in  my  possession.  The  afternoon  and  evening  we  spent  in 
yarning,  reading  and  playing  cards.  Of  reading  matter  we  had 

60 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

an  inexhaustible  supply,  the  bunkhouse  being  simply  littered 
with  magazines  of  all  dates  and  of  all  descriptions.  "  Pedro  " 
and  "  Blackjack  "  were  the  chief  games  of  cards  that  we  played, 
chiefly  the  former,  as  the  latter  needs  coin  to  make  it  interesting, 
and  that  commodity  was  conspicuously  absent. 

After  some  days  of  hoeing  hops  I  decided  to  seek  a  change. 
The  fact  of  an  eruption  of  boils  having  broken  out  on  my  neck, 
doubtless  due  to  the  bad  water  I  had  drunk  in  the  last  few 
weeks,  gave  me  a  good  excuse  to  return  to  Portland  in  order  to 
get  treatment. 

I  bade  good-bye  to  my  two  shortwhile  partners,  whom  I  have 
never  seen  since.  If  by  a  remote  chance  these  lines  should  meet 
their  eyes,  they  will  read  as  well  the  writer's  heartiest  greetings. 

It  was  near  the  end  of  June  when  I  returned  to  Portland, 
which  was  on  the  day  of  my  arrival  gaily  decorated  for  the 
annual  Rose  Fiesta.  The  festoons  and  garlands  in  the  streets 
looked  very  pretty,  and  the  procession,  with  its  charming  Rose 
Queen,  was  indeed  a  welcome  sight  after  seven  days  of  "  'oeing 
'ops."  The  day  of  the  festival  was  extremely  hot — ninety 
degrees  in  the  shade — as  I  also  knew  to  my  discomfort,  being 
well -bandaged  about  the  neck  on  my  return  from  the  hospital. 

In  a  few  days  I  was  well  again  and  decided  to  seek  fresh 
woods  and  pastures  new.  With  this  object  in  mind  I  went  down 
to  the  employment  offices  and  examined  all  the  boards,  telhng 
whe]'e  labour  was  wanted.  These  agencies  are  a  feature  of  the 
Western  coast.  From  them  a  stranger  in  the  town  can  easily 
learn  where  and  what  are  the  chances  of  getting  a  job.  Not 
being  run  by  Government,  they  are  efficient  ;  and,  if  there  is 
work  going  and  the  applicant  can  do  it,  there  is  not  much  time 
lost  befoi'c  matters  are  fixed  up.  Having  scanned  most  of  the 
boards,  1  never  realised  so  forcibly  what  a  really  helpless  indi- 
vidual I  was  ;  for  there  was  nothing  I  could  truthfully  say  I 
could  do.  At  last,  a  man  standing  in  the  doorway  of  one  of  tliese 
offices  seeing  me  reading  one  of  the  notices  remarked:  "  Well, 
young  fellow,  want  a  job  ?  I  want  a  nice  clean  young  'un  for  a 
janitor  in  a  lumber  camp."  Yes,  I  thought  rather  bitterly  to 

6i 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

myself,  that  is  about  all  my  helpless  Enghsli  cdueation  fits  me 
for.  Certainly  the  most  confirmed  insular  optimist  cannot  say 
that  our  home  education  does  much  to  equip  young  Englishmen 
for  the  struggle  for  modern  existence  and  for  the  battle  of  life 
abroad.  Though  my  so-called  "  intellectual  attainments  " 
(including  two  imperfectly-learnt  foreign  languages)  were 
greater  than  those  of  the  majority  of  the  men  with  whom  I  had 
u])  to  then  come  in  contact,  I  realised  that  they  were  in  every 
respect  my  su])eriors  in  that  they  could  use  an  axe  which  I 
could  not  ;  in  that  all  had  some  trade  or  line,  however  small  and 
humble,  to  follow  whicli  I  like  the  thousands  of  others  similarly 
trained  at  home  had  not. 

However,  it  ^^'as  not  to  get  a  job  this  time  tliat  had  taken 
me  (hnvn  to  these  emjjloyment  offices,  but  to  make  them  pay 
my  ]'ail  fai'c  somewhere  u])  north.  This  sounds  as  though  these 
agencies  wei'c  philaiithro])ic  institutions,  whicli  is  l)y  no  means 
the  case,  as  all  AVesterners  know.  The  idea,  to  which  I  had  been 
"  put  wise,"  was  to  select  a  job  in  the  place  wlici'c  one  wished  to 
go,  or  failing  that  as  near  to  it  as  one  could  get.  You  then  paid 
the  fee  and  received  a  railway  ticket,  giving  as  security  your 
"  gri])  "  or  roll  of  blankets.  This  is  the  general  procedui-e  when 
a  man  is  genuinely  wanting  work.  In  my  case,  howevei',  the 
"  gri])  "  that  I  intended  to  place  in  the  liands  of  the  ein])loyment 
agency  was  one  to  be  Ijought  for  fifty  cents  at  any  Jew  stoi'c. 
On  jcecipt  of  your  tick(;t  you  left  the  "  grij)  "'  as  a  secui'ity,  and 
incidentally  as  a  legacy.  In  the  case  of  tlie  genuine  seeker  of 
work,  the  baggage  is  luuided  over  to  him  on  iiis  ai'i'ival  at  his 
destination  when  he  has  started  work. 

With  this  scheme  in  mind — not  a  very  honest  one,  certainly, 
])ut  Necessity  is  a  hard  inistress — I  selected  a  jol)  of  an  ex})ert 
saw-jnill  liand  iji  a  place  called  C'hehalis,  which  was  as  far  noi'th 
as  I  could  get.  I  ])aid  rny  fee  of  one  dollai'  iifty  cents  and  was 
told  to  call  next  nKjrning  for  my  railroad  ticket. 

ILiving  made  these  ])i'e]jai'ations  I  bade  fal'e^^'e]l  to  tlie  few 
friends  1  had  made  in  Portland.  I  spent  my  lasl  evening  in  the 
company  of  some  Japanese  acquaintances,  from  whom,  during 

02 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

my  periodical  stays  in  the  town,  I  had  received  innumerable 
kindnesses.  In  passing,  I  would  remark  that  it  seems  a  pity  that 
Western  Americans  cannot  discriminate  a  little  better  between 
a  Japanese  gentleman  and  a  Japanese  coolie.  The  latter,  I  grant, 
is  by  no  means  a  w'elcome  visitor.  Americans,  when  visiting 
Japan,  are  often  eager  to  surfeit  their  Japanese  hosts  with 
profuse  protestations  of  undying  friendship  and  good-will, 
whereas  when  they  themselves  are  hosts  they  certainly  do  not 
live  up  to  their  words.  A  little  more  in  deeds  and  a  little  less  in 
words  would  do  much  to  convince  the  Japanese  of  the  sincerity 
of  the  good-will  Americans  have  towards  them. 

On  the  following  morning  I  called  at  the  employment  agency 
for  my  ticket,  but  found  to  my  dismay  that  the  job  I  had 
arranged  to  take  had  been  since  cancelled  by  wire.  As  there  were 
no  other  jobs  in  the  direction  I  wished  to  go,  I  received  the 
refund  of  my  small  fee  and  left  the  oflice  disgusted,  feeling  as 
thougli  I  had  been  very  badly  treated.  My  "  security  grip  "  had 
been  a  useless  investment  ! 

These  well-laid  plans  having  thus  fallen  through,  I  decided 
to  take  a  boat  to  Kalama  on  the  Cohunbia,  and  from  there  to 
take  the  ti-ain  to  Tacoma.  But  I  determined  not  to  pay  fare 
on  the  train  and  to  adopt  the  usual  method  of  the  "  hobo  " — 
namely,  to  "■  beat  "  the  train  {i.e.  to  i-idc  v.ithout  paying  fare). 

I  reached  Kalama  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  and 
then  went  to  the  one  small  hotel  in  the  town  to  get  something 
to  eat.  Whilst  there  I  got  into  conversation  Vv'itli  two  men,  who 
informed  me  in  quite  a  matter-of-fact  way  that  they  were  going 
to  "  make  "  the  night  freight  train  to  Tacoma.  This  excellent 
opportrmity  I  seized.  I  i-emarked  casually:  "Why,  so  am  I." 
To  my  suggestion  that  Ave  should  join  forces  they  I'cplied  briefly  : 
"■  Sure,  kid." 

We  sat  by  the  stove  yaniiug  till  nearh'  midnight,  when  we 
lieard  the  shrill  cry  of  the  do\vn  mail  from  Tacoma,  which 
warned  us  it  was  time  to  get  moving.  One  (^f  my  companions 
told  me  that  he  had  travelled  right  through  the  States,  fiom 
New  York  to   T^'risco,   without   paying  a   red  cent  in  fares, 

03 


A  waxderp:r's  trail 

"beating"  the  trains  where  lie  could  and,  when  unable  to  do  that, 
"  counting  the  ties  "  (tramping  along  the  railroad  track).  It  had 
taken  him  over  two  months  to  do  it.  In  America,  particularly 
in  the  West,  there  is  a  very  large  floating  population  of  men,  who 
migrate  from  one  state  to  another,  never  settling  long  in  one 
place.  A  man  will  spend  a  part  of  the  year  in  a  lumber  camp, 
perhaps  the  summer  up  in  Klondyke,  and  will  then  spend  his 
earnings  during  two  or  three  winter  months  in  tlie  "  red  lights  " 
of  one  of  the  big  towns.  When  broke  he  will  start  all  over  again. 
Year  after  year,  so  he  goes  on,  till  rheumatism  from  the  camps, 
or  a  bullet  in  a  'Frisco  brawl  rings  down  the  curtain. 

Leaving  the  hotel,  we  reached  the  freight  cars  and  slipped 
quietly  along  the  rows  of  standing  cars  and  trucks.  I  noticed 
other  skulking  figures,  from  which  I  deduced  that  we  were  not 
the  only  intending  "  passengers."  I  left  my  fellow-hobos  to  take 
the  initiative,  following  in  their  footsteps,  doing  as  they  did, 
hiding  when  they  did.  They  first  tried  the  doors  of  the  cars,  but 
found  them  all  locked  as  they  had  expected,  though  one  is  some- 
times lucky  enough  to  find  one  unfastened.  Stopping  at  one  car, 
one  of  my  companions  silently  clambered  up  the  side,  taking 
care  whilst  doing  so  not  to  be  observed  by  any  brakeman.  On 
]-eaching  the  top  he  disappeared  for  a  moment  and  I  heard  the 
sound  of  hushed  voices  in  conversation.  Presently  he  reappeared 
and  climljcd  down  with  the  brief  remark:  "  Full  !  "  Meanwhile 
the  cars  were  all  being  shimted  to  and  fro.  the  waving  lights 
of  the  brakemcn's  lanterns  appearing  every  now  and  then 
indicating  to  us  their  wliercabouts.  The  brakeman  is  the 
natural  enemy  of  the  "hobo,"  and  there  is  mighty  little  love 
lost  between  them. 

I  was  beginning  to  get  a  little  anxious  as  to  whether  our 
efforts  to  bo[ird  the  tr;iin  would  be  successful.  My  companions, 
hoNvever,  seemed  not  to  v,orry  in  the  least  ;  thry  knew  exactly 
what  was  going  on  and  wliat  they  were  goiiv,  to  do.  being 
seasoned  hands.  At  that  })artieular  moment  I  was  standing 
between  two  ears,  just  behind  my  companions  who  wci'C  in  the 
shadow,  when  one  of  ilicni  glancing  r(;und  suddenly  noticed  my 

64 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

position.  Quickly  lie  told  me  to  move  away  and  concluded  by 
saying  :  "  Never  stand  'tween  cars,  kid;  you  never  know  when 
they  won't  be  moved  !  "  I  had  barely  shifted  my  position,  and 
the  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth,  before  the  very  cars 
between  which  I  had  been  standing  were  suddenly  jerked  by  the 
engine  and  started  moving.  It  was  a  narrow  escape,  and  my 
co>npanion  looked  at  me  with  an  amused  what-did-I-tell-you 
kind  of  expj'cssion  on  his  face.  Statistics  record  that  ovcj'  five 
thousand  hobos  are  killed  yearly  on  the  American  railroads. 

Most  of  the  cars  on  the  train  were  specially  designed  for  fruit- 
carrying,  being  fitted  witli  ice  boxes  at  either  end.  We  finally 
found  one  car  in  the  refrigei'ating  box  of  which  there  was  room 
for  all  of  us,  only  one  other  occupant  being  already  there.  The 
breadth  of  this  compartment,  fore  and  aft,  was  about  four  feet  ; 
the  width  was  that  of  tlie  car.  To  say  that  we  four  men  were  a 
tight  fit  in  this  nari'ow  box  is  a  mild  way  of  putting  it.  However, 
as  it  was  pretty  cold  at  that  hour  of  the  morning,  it  was  not  so 
uncomfortable  as  it  inight  have  been.  Packed  thus  like  sardines, 
we  Avaited  for  the  train  to  start.  We  expected  every  moment  to 
get  away,  but  the  confounded  train  hung  about  till  three  in 
the  morning,  when  it  started  languidly  to  cover  the  distance  to 
Tacoma,  rumbling  through  stations,  stopping  here  and  there. 

^Ve  had  been  on  the  mo\'e  for  about  an  hour  when  a  brake- 
man  running  along  the  tops  of  the  cars  peered  into  our  hiding- 
place.   Seeing  us  he  demanded  in  the  choicest  of  language  : 

"  What  the •  are  you  — —  hobos  doing  in  there  ?  "  I  was 

the  nearest  to  him.  but  I  answered  not  a  wojd.  However,  as  he 
repeated  liis  question  in  even  more  forcible  language  I  meekly 
replied  :  "  We  are  going  to  Tacoma  !  "  It  was  rather  an  obvious 
statement.  He  then  asked  us  what  money  we  possessed  ;  to  this 
wc  all  replied  promptly  and  unanimously  :  "'  None  !  "  One  of  my 
com]-)anio]is  furtlicr  gently  told  him  to  go  to  hell.  Apparently  he 
had  no  sense  of  humour,  for  he  waxed  wroth  at  this.  He  hurled 
at  us  all  sorts  of  abuse  and  tlireats  if  we  didn't  '"  get."  Rather 
to  mv  surpj-ise  both  my  two  companions  "'  got  "  !  They  both, 
climbed  out  and  left  the  ti'ain,  only,  however,  to  clamber  into 

K  05 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

another  car  under  cover  of  darkness.  Tlie  other  occupant  and 
I  sat  tight  and  remained  riglit  where  we  were.  I  then  remarked 
with  true  Russian  diplomacy  that  I  had  a  fifty-cent  piece  ;  this 
I  gave  the  brakeman,  and  peace  was  made.  He  told  us  to  stay 
where  we  were  (a  rather  unnecessary  permission)  and  lie  would 
let  us  know  when  the  train  was  nearing  Tacoma,  when  we  should 
have  to  get  off.  My  remaining  fellow-ti'avcller  was  quite  an 
entertaining  chap.  He  was  an  ex-Bi-itish  naval  sailor  and  also 
an  ex-American,  having  deserted  from  both  navies  ;  at  the 
moment,  he  told  mo,  he  was  a  barbei-  ! 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  brakeman  passed  over 
the  tops  of  the  cars  and  shouted  to  us  to  clear  out  quickly  as  the 
train  had  slowed  down  and  was  getting  u])  speed  again.  I 
clambered  out,  feeling  very  stiff  and  o-amped  aftej'  eight  hours 
in  that  little  compartment.  Indeed,  it  was  with  no  little  risk 
that  I  ran  over  the  top  of  the  car,  which  ^vas  rocking  to  and  fi'o 
as  the  train's  speed  was  fast  increasing.  Reaching  the  end  of  the 
car  I  quickly  climbed  down  the  side  and,  clioosing  the  I'ight 
moment,  jumped.  ]My  companion  followed  me  and  a  few  seconds 
later  jumped  cleai'.  But  from  that  moment  I  missed  him. 

Just  as  I  was  picking  myself  off  the  gi'ound  I  ran  up  against 
my  two  former  companions  and  we  all  commenced  trudging 
towards  Tacoma.  We  were  in  sad  need  of  a  wash.  Our  hands  and 
faces  wci'c  gi'imed  and  grubby,  and  three  more  disrc]:)utable 
"  hobos  "  it  would  have  indeed  been  dilfieult  to  lind.  However, 
no  one  looks  '"  sideways  "  at  you  out  West  because  you  are 
down  on  your  luck,  and  it  was  not  long  before  ^ve  came  on  a 
small  sliack  where  we  got  a  decent  wash.  Feeling  cleaner,  but 
decidedly  hungry,  we  were  glad  to  reach  the  town  and  have 
some  l)reakfast. 

Citizens  of  the  I'ival  Western  towns  call  Tacoma  "  a  dead 
liole.'"  '■  Sleepy  Tacoma,"  etc.  My  stay  was  not  long  enough  to 
judge  whether  tlie  city  deserved  that  title  or  not  ;  the  streets 
certaiiily  did  not  give  one  the  same  imj^rcssion  of  bustle  as 
the  other  towns  hatl. 

On  visiting  the  docks  the  lirst  man  I  met  was  m\-  sailor- 

66 


TRAVEL  IX  TLIE  WP^STERX  STATES 

companion  of  the  previous  night.  He  was  seated  on  a  wharf 
truck  gazing  placidly  out  to  sea,  "  looking  for  work  "  he  calmly 
remarked  on  seeing  me.  He  seemed  genuinely  glad  to  meet  me 
again,  for,  as  lie  had  lost  sight  of  me  the  mojnent  I  jumped 
from  the  train,  he  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  I  had  been 
sinashed  up,  particularly,  he  added,  as  he  had  seen  something 
white  pass  under  the  wheels  as  he  left  the  fast-moving  train 
and  remembered  that  I  had  a  white  scarf  (i.e.  a  part  of  a 
Hour  sack)  round  my  neck.  After  assuring  him  that  I  was  still 
alive  and  kicking,  and  remarking  that  I  also  had  been  wondering 
where  he  had  got  to,  I  asked  him  whether  there  was  anything 
doing  in  the  tow]i.  lie  said  everything  appeared  to  him  to  be 
vei'y  quiet,  and  as  my  impression  was  the  same  I  decided  to  go 
on  to  Seattle. 

The  following  afternoon  I  caught  one  of  the  fast  steamers  for 
Seattle  and  ai'rived  there  after  a  two  houis'  passage.  It  was  a 
pleasant  trip,  the  scenery  of  the  shores  of  Puget  Sound  being 
very  pretty. 

On  my  arrival  in  Seattle  I  booked  a  room — a  two-bedded  one 
— for  twenty-fi\'e  cents,  as  funds  were  getting  low.  The  other 
occupant,  an  old  miner,  was  fast  asleep  when,  after  exploring 
part  of  the  town,  I  turned  in. 

Seattle  looked  a  very  prosperous  toA\n.  I  say  looked  because 
I  could  never  find  out — and  I'm  no  wiser  to-day — what  really 
supports  Seattle,  a  city  possessing  palatial  buildings  and  an 
evci'-growing  po])ulation.  Certainly  I  recall  the  city  engineer,  in 
the  coui'se  of  a  speech  which  he  made  during  my  stay  there,  re- 
marking :  "  We  have  the  two  things  essential  for  a  great  cit>'  : 
cheap  l)read  and  good  sanitary  arrangements."  But,  with  all 
due  re^|)eet  to  Setittle's  distinguished  engineei',  I  think  some- 
thing more  than  tliese  ncce>sities  would  be  essential  to  su})port 
or  found  a  great  city.  Coni])arative]\'  speaking,  Seattle  possesses 
but  few  industries  of  any  size  ;  and  the  Alaskan  trade  (so  often 
cited  as  the  support  of  Seattle),  shared  as  it  is  with  Vancouver 
and  San  Francisco,  would  not  support  skyscrapers  hke  the 
Ala^l^.a  building  in  Washington  Street  for  long.  At  any  rate  I 

67 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

was  quite  unable  to  discover  what  it  is  that  supports  Seattle, 
and  gives  it  that  air  of  prosperity.  Every  other  person  in  Seattle 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  real  estate  agent.  I  wonder  how  much  of 
Seattle's  real  estate  is  really  real  ! 

I  had  in  my  possession  a  letter  of  introduction  to  some  English 
people  who  had  been  long  i-esidcnt  in  this  town,  so  I  decided  to 
present  it  and  get  acquainted  once  again,  if  only  for  a  short  time, 
witli  refined  surroundiiigs.  The  residential  part  of  Seattle  struck 
me  as  bei]ig  well  laid  out,  with  many  pretty  and  commodious 
houses.  The  Western  type  of  residence  is  extremely  artistic, 
particularly  so  in  California.  From  the  high  parts  of  Seattle, 
which  one  reaches  by  means  of  cable  cars  (the  grade  of  the  hills 
is  too  steep  to  permit  of  ordinaiy  electric  cai's),  one  can  obtain 
an  extensive  view  of  the  surrounding  countr\'.  Beautiful  Mount 
Rainier  (or  Mount  Tacoma,  as  the  citizens  of  that  town  call  it) 
stands  out  promiricntly,  snow-clad  the  whole  year  round,  over- 
looking the  quiet  calm  waters  of  Puget  Sound  shaded  by  the 
richly  timbci'cd  banks. 

I  presented  my  letter  and  was  very  cordially  welcomed  ;  and 
with  true  Western  hospitality  was  invited  to  stay  a  few  days.  In 
the  company  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family  I  saw  much 
of  life  that  was  pleasant  in  Seattle.  We  visited  together  many 
of  the  "  dime  "  shoAvs,  which  are  quite  a  feature  of  the  Western 
coast,  as  also  the  theatres  and  ice-cream  and  candy  stores. 

The  4th  of  July — ■Independence  Day — fell  during  my  visit 
here.  Some  few  days  before,  when  I  had  been  in  the  company  of 
a  party  of  Americans,  I  happened  to  ask  what  they  generally  did 
on  that  date,  as  I  had  heard  so  much  alsout  it.  "  Why,"  one 
icplicd  jocularly,  "that's  the  day  we  insult  all  you  goddam 
Eiiglislimcn  !  "  However,  the  chief  feature  was  a  great  display 
of  fireworks.  Tlie  day  itself  I  spent  in  tlie  comjjany  of  my  friends, 
batliiiig  and  boatijig  at  a  small  place  on  the  Sound.  We  were 
most  of  us  youjig  people  and  you  caimot  beat  a  party  of  yovmg 
American  boys  and  girls  for  tliorouglily  enjoying  tliemselves. 
There  is  not  the  same  rigid  segregation  of  sex  out  West  as  in 
Kjigland,  the  result  being  that  the  girls  are  far  more  natural 

68 


Ml  ir  \  I    l<  \\  ii:k 


-sa 


M>.i     \    I        ll.M.Ii 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

and  do  not  regard  every  young  man  they  meet  in  the  light  of  a 
possible  husband. 

It  was  on  the  Madison  ground  in  Seattle  (after  my  return  from 
Alaska)  that  I  witnessed  my  first  game  of  American  Rugby  foot- 
ball. Seattle  High  Sehool  was  playing  Tacoma  High  Sehool,  the 
result  being  a  win  for  the  former  by  thirty-two  points  to  nil. 

Truthfully  speaking,  I  can't  say  that  I  was  very  greatly 
impressed  by  this  style  of  football,  of  which  I  heard  so  much. 
Compared  with  English  Rugby,  there  being  but  little  open 
play,  the  game  seemed  too  tight,  and  in  consequence,  from  a 
spectator's  point  of  view,  was  rather  uninteresting.  The  rules 
appeared  to  be  to  some  extent  similar  to  those  of  English  Rugby, 
with  the  exception  of  the  forward  pass,  which  I  was  told  had 
been  but  lately  inti'oduced.  It  appeared  in  my  eyes  to  be  a  poor 
innovation. 

During  the  course  of  the  game  ten  men  were  laid  out,  though 
nobody  was  seriously  hurt.  The  frequent  stoppages  in  conse- 
quence made  the  game  rather  tedious  to  watch  ;  for,  if  one 
allowed  three  minutes  per  man  injured,  that  meant  at  the  very 
least  a  waste  of  half-an-liour  during  the  time  of  play. 

If  the  game  did  not  particularly  appeal  to  me,  the  attendance 
certainly  did,  the  relative  supporters  of  the  rival  teams  ex- 
pending in  cheering  and  "  rooting  "  nearly  as  much  energy  as 
did  the  players  on  the  field.  I  think  also  that  I  never  saw  so  many 
pretty  girls  as  I  did  on  the  Madison  ground  the  day  of  that 
match.  I  fear  gazing  at  some  of  them  took  jny  eyes  too  frequently 
off  the  game,  so  that  my  impressions  above  maybe  at  fault.  I 
made  a  special  note  in  my  diaiy  to  the  effect  that  if  Seattle 
apparently  produced  nothing  else  it  could  at  least  boast  some 
charming  girls. 

I  found  work  very  scarce  in  Seattle  and,  as  after  a  few  days 
nothing  turned  up,  I  decided  to  go  up  to  Alaska.  With  this  in 
view  I  made  many  efforts  to  secure  a  job  on  one  of  the  steamers 
that  periodically  left  Seattle  for  the  north,  but  I  found  such 
employment  very  difficult  to  obtain.  After  numerous  visits  to  the 
docks  I  was  at  last  offered  a  job  as  a  janitor  on  board  the  City 

69 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

oj  Seattle,  whicli  was  due  to  sail  tlic  same  evening  for  Alaska. 
It  was,  of  course,  an  undci'stood  tiling  that  one  signed  for  the 
round  trip,  hut  I  had  not  the  least  intention  to  make  the  return 
trip,  or  at  any  rate  not  yet  awhile.  ]\[y  intention  was  to  deseit 
on  ari'ival.  Ha\'i]ig  this  in  view  I  aecejrted  my  janitorship,  the 
duties  of  which  eojisisted.  I  gathered,  in  doing  all  the  dirty  jobs 
that  were  to  be  done  about  the  slii]).  The  lit'st  duty  allotted 
me  was  to  start  cleaning  u])  the  "  gloi'y  hole  "  (the  stewards' 
quai'ters),  and  to  make  up  the  bunks  there.  The  first  glimpse  of 
the  place  nearly  took  my  breath  away.  Ijoots,  clothes  and  boxes 
lay  on  and  under  bunks  in  such  confusion  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty I  could  move  a  ste]).  I  started  on  the  bunk  nearest  the 
door.  With  a  few  enei-gctic  movements  I  made  a  clean  sweep 
of  evei'vthing  in  it,  thi'owing  all  the  motley  cojitcnts  on  to  the 
ground.  This,  instead  of  eleai'ing  the  way.  only  seemed  to  in- 
tensify the  cliaos  that  surrounded  me.  Tlien  I  confess  my  heart 
failed  me.  After  a  pi'olonged  and  melanclioly  gaze  at  my  untidy 
sin-roundings  I  slowly  put  on  my  coat  and  with  a  meditative 
but  watchful  air  went  on  deck  again.  Without  even  saying  good- 
bye to  the  chief  steward  I  skip])ed  down  the  gangway  and  shook 
the  dust  of  the  Citij  oj  Seattle  irom  off  my  shoes,  and  incidentally 
from  off  my  clothes  also. 

I  wonder  if  my  reader  can  imagine  the  choice  language  of 
the  ii'ate  owiier  when  he  gazed  on  his  wardrobe  and  precious 
belongings  all  lying  in  one  confused  heap  on  the  ground  ;  or  the 
scathing  comments  of  the  chief  steward  on  his  missing  janitor. 
I  can  ! 

]Mv  arrangements  to  get  up  north  fi'om  Sc\'ittle  not  seeming  to 
get  ''  nnieh  forrarder,"  I  decided  to  go  U])  to  X'ancouver.  where 
I  learnt  thei'C  were  often  0])po!tunities  to  leaeh  Alaska  by  taking 
U])  cattle,  which,  in  my  sanguineness  of  spiiit.  seemed  to  me  a 
job  I  could  easily  tackle.  I  was  not.  howevci'.  keen  on  any  more 
janitoi"  jobs. 

IIa\'ing  tlnis  made  up  my  mind  I  caught  the  little  steamer 
llainona  on  the  evening  o!  the  l.^th  .fuly.  IxjuihI  for  British 
C'oiiimbia.  The  fare  was  only  two  dollars,  this,  of  course,  not 

70 


TT^AVEL  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES 

iiiduding  a  hod,  of  wliicli  luxury  my  state  of  funds,  now  alaiin- 
in^ly  siuall,  would  not  jicriuit. 

1  bade  my  ehavmijio'  fricjids  ifood-l)y('  and,  witli  a  last  look 
at  the  twijikling  lio-hts  of  Seattle  fading  away  in  the  distance, 
I  said  for  a  time  farewell  to  the  hospitable  shores  of  America. 


71 


CHAPTER    V 

SOME    EXPERIENCES    IX    CANADA 

EARLY  on  the  following  moi'ning,  after  a  twelve  hours' 
sea  passage,  I  first  put  my  foot  on  Canadian  soil.  The 
town  of  Vancouver,  in  comparison  ^vith  Seattle  and 
other  Western  cities,  appeared  small  and  insignificant.  It  dis- 
appointed me  greatly,  particularly  after  hearing  so  often  from 
the  various  Canadians  I  had  met  in  the  States  that  Vancouver 
was  a  wonderful  place.  I  have  generally  found  it  to  be  the  ease 
that  tlie  smaller  the  dorp  the  louder  do  the  citizens  talk  of  its 
size  and  prosperity. 

Vancouver  is  the  smallest  of  the  large  Western  cities.  The 
go-ahead  atmosphere  of  the  American  towns  seemed  to  me  to  be 
more  or  less  absent  up  here,  and  instead  a  mixtuie  of  American, 
Canadian  and  English  ideas,  which  appeared  in  some  way  not  to 
harmonise  one  with  the  other.  Considering  its  age,  ^'ancouver 
is  a  thriving  city  and  one  with  an  undoubted  future  before  it. 
The  opening  of  the  Panama  Canal  should  very  considerably 
increase  the  volume  of  tlie  trade.  To-day,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered, Vancouver  is  the  terminus  of  several  large  continental 
I'ailroads  and  a  seaport  of  growing  importance.  I  ^^•ould.  however, 
like  some  of  the  Vancouver  ''boosters  "  to  walk  tliiough  the 
streets  of  Joliannesburg  once  bcfoi'c  they  eommenee  enlarging 
on  the  marvellous  growth  of  their  town  in  such  a  shoit 
period. 

It  was  in  Vancouver  that  I  first  came  into  contact  Avith  that 
despicable  object — the  remittance-man.  The  bulk  of  tlie  -.pecies 
I  jan  across  were  human  dei'cliets,  moi-al  if  not  physical 
Avi'ooks  :  in  most  cases  living  monuments  to  a  father's  igno'-anee 
or  a  mother's  folly  I  One  of  the  greatest  misiakcs  })arents  can 

72 


SOME  EXPEinFACKS  IN  CANADA 

make,  when  sending  their  sons  to  Canada  to  become  citizens 
of  that  great  Dominion,  is  to  give  them  a  monthly  allowance. 
With  but  few  exceptions  the  inevitable  result  is  the  complete 
moral,  if  not  physical,  ruin  of  the  boy. 

On  making  inquiries  as  to  what  opportunities  there  were  to 
get  up  to  Alaska  I  found  that,  for  the  next  ten  days  at  least, 
there  were  no  boats  leaving  for  the  northland  ;  but  I  learnt  that 
there  was  a  probability  of  a  cattle  boat  leaving  shortly  after- 
Avards.  As  my  stock  of  dollars  was  now  in  its  "  teens,"  the 
necessity  to  get  some  work  was  urgent. 

The  day  after  my  arrival  in  the  town  I  got  a  job — the  only 
one  I  could.  It  was  laying  cement  "side-walks  "  in  one  of  the 
main  streets  of  the  city.  My  work  was  to  shovel  cement  and 
gravel  and  wheel  it  in  barrows  along  a  narrow  plank  to  the 
desired  spot.  Some  of  the  terrifying  moments  I  had  when  the 
barrow  was  within  an  ace  of  the  edge  of  that  plank,  not  a  foot 
wide,  baffle  description.  It  was  extremely  hard  work  and  the  pay 
was  poor,  only  twenty-seven  and  a  half  cents  an  hour  !  In  fact, 
my  fellow-labourers  told  me  that  it  was  the  toughest  work  going 
in  the  town  at  the  moment ;  and  to  the  truth  of  that  statement 
— at  noon  of  the  first  (and  last!)  day — I  could  fully  testify. 
To  shovel  for  hours  on  end  with  a  long-handled  shovel  a 
mixture  of  cement,  gravel  and  water,  and  then  to  wheel  it 
in  a  barrow  over  the  narrow  plank,  uphi Unwell,  it  was  as 
hard  a  job  as  any  I  had  yet  tackled  on  the  coast.  I  struck 
work  after  one  day  ;  I  confess  it  was  too  much  for  my  not 
over-Herculean  frame.  Even  lithe-limbed  Danes  fought  shy 
of  that  job  ! 

Whilst  strolling  down  Granville  Street  the  following  day 
pondering  over  what  I  should  do,  the  idea  of  getting  a  job  in  a 
cigar  store  suddenly  occurred  to  me.  Not  letting  the  idea  die  at 
its  birth,  I  went  into  the  first  cigar  store  I  came  across.  On 
inquiring  for  work  I  was  naturally  asked  whether  I  knew  the 
business.  I  replied  diplomatically:  "Well,  I'm  more  used  to 
cigar  stores  on  the  American  side."  This  slightly  ambiguous 
ansvrer  seemed  effectual.  Unfortunately,  however,  there  was  no 


A  WAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

vacancy  ;  l)ut  I  ^vas  told  to  "  call  a,L>'ai]i  !  "  '  Alter  trying  quite  a 
number  of  stoi'cs  in  tlie  town  I  was  becoming  rather  dislieai'tened 
as  no  success  met  my  eff'oiis.  At  last  I  struck  oil,  thougli  I 
must  say  not  i]i  vei'y  ]>ayi]ig  quantities  I  The  cigar  store  I  came 
to  was  oi!(^  \vhicli  was  being  iim  In  eoiijnnetio]i  witli  a  real 
estate  biisijiess  ((>\('i'y  otiier  man  is  a  real  estate  broker  in 
the  West)  :  this  liUsincss  occupied  one  side  of  the  stoi'c  and  the 
tobacconist's  the  other.  ]  lenrivt  li'ojn  the  owjier,  \\-ho  did  not 
seem  very  prospci-ous.  that  the  cigar  stoie  would  not  support 
an  assistant  :  business  in  genei'al.  ])arlieulaily  real  estate,  he 
said,  was  very  duU.  He  a]i])eared.  howe\'er,  nudecided  ;  so  I 
placed  l)efoi'e  him  such  an  eloqueirt  pi'Os])eet  oi'  the  immediate 
large  inei'case  in  his  real  estate  busi]iess  tlial  would  inevitably 
result  if  he  eiujiloyed  wic  to  look  ai'tc!"  his  eiga=  store  that  I  got 
myself  engaged  forthwith.  I  I'cally  believe  that  1  bullied  the  poor 
man  into  giving  me  the  job  !  Unfortunately  the  })est  pay  I 
could  extract  fiom  him  A\as  a  dollar  per  day.  which,  to  say  the 
least  oj'  it,  was  not  a  \(tv  handsome  wage — even  for  Vancouver. 
Still  it  kept  me  going  till  I  could  fix  u]:*  a  ])oat  foi-  Alaska.  I 
ai'ranged  to  I'lm  the  cigar  store  from  two  in  the  afternoon  till 
ten  at  night — closing  time. 

^ly  occupation  then  for  the  next  few  days  allowed  me  to  spend 
the  morning  at  PiUglish  Bay — a  most  (k-lightful  I'csort  just  out- 
side the  town.  A  cai'  ride  down  Roljsoii  Street — scene  of  my 
heroic  efforts  witli  shovel  and  l)arr()^\• — lined  ^vitii  ])ictin'esque 
dwellings  with  shingled  loofs  and  wide  open  poi'ches.  brought 
me  to  the  bay,  whe-e  e\'ery  morning  many  came  to  l)athe  and 
swim.  Aftei'  my  luneli  I  would  tui'U  u])  at  the  cigar  ^{ovc  and 
'■  I'un  "'  it.  Tliis  consisted  cliirily  in.  silting  behind  the  counter, 
reading  and  sinolviiig  the  stoclv.  as  customer-,  wci'e  cons[)ieuous 
b\'  theii'  al)sence  :  in  fact  I  ^\as  the  best  one. 

-My  lii'st  day's  takings  were  under  five  dollars  ;  and  this  figure 
I  found  was  abr)ut  the  average,  with  the  exce])tion  of  Saturday — 

'  .\  j)hra-;('  v<-r\  ')Ht'n  in  the  moutlis  di  ilic  inhaliitraUs  df  the  roast. 
Wh.'ii  a  hel\-  is  pa\ai!.;  an  riltenin'.ai  ea!l  uii  iier  tu'i';l!l):jur  the  latter, 
vsiicu    siH'i.'ihii;',   iirr  jMrtiitL;  Latent    inxariably  reuiaiks  ;  "  Call  again  I 

74 


SOME  EXPEPJTEXCES  TN  CANADA 

when  sales  amounted  to  about  ten  dollars.  Twenty-five  dollars 
would,  I  belie\'e,  have  bought  the  sho]),  though  it  was  lined  to 
the  roof  with  aji  imposing  ari'ay  of  empty  boxes,  which  at  fiist 
ill  my  blissful  ignoranee  I  imagined  to  be  full  of  tobaeco. 

(living  wrojig  change,  shaking  the  dice  and  yarning  with 
customers  helped  to  pass  the  time  away  when  I  was  not  readiiig. 
It  was  in  Amci'ican  parlance  "  a  snap."  I  can  recall  veiy  well 
the  first  occasion  on  which  I  shook  the  dice  with  a  customer.  I 
was  busily  engaged  in  reading  "  The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo," 
when  a  "  hard-looking  case  "  walked  into  the  store  with  tliese 
words  :  "  Say.  kid.  do  you  shake  the  dice  ?  I  w'ant  some  cigars." 
Now,  I  had  seen  the  dice  box  under  the  countei-,  but  not  up  till 
then  had  I  manipulated  it ;  and  I  was  just  wondering  whether 
it  would  be  wiser  to  confess  my  ignoi'anec  oi'  to  bluff.  I  decided, 
on  looking  at  my  customer,  on  the  former.  So  I  replied  :  "  Sui'c, 
though  I'm  not  very  wise  about  it."  3Iy  customer  told  me  not  to 
worry  about  that  ;  "  I'll  soon  put  you  wise,  young  fellow." 
He  did  ;  and  I  won  every  time,  till  he  quit  in  disgust  with  the 
I'cmark :  "  You  golldarned  tenderfoots  have  the  luck  of  the 
devil."  Another  incident  I  recall  very  well.  A  customer  had 
purchased  seventy-five  cents'  worth  of  cigars  and  had  tendered 
a  five-dollar  bill  in  pa;ymient.  Now,  in  the  Western  towns  of 
America  one  never  sees  the  colour  of  a  note  from  one  month  to 
another  ;  all  cun'eiicy  is  gold  or  silvei'.  In  the  East  the  case  is 
exactly  the  opposite.  In  Vancouver,  howevei',  bills  ai'c  not  iin- 
frcquently  seen,  and  this  occasion  was  when  I  first  caught  sight 
of  a  '■  greenback."  For  a  time  I  was  scared  to  change  it,  feai-ing 
it  might  be  a  wi'oiig  'un.  Howevei',  as  my  customer  had  no  small 
cliange,  I  had  to.  I  carefully  counted  out  tire  change  and  handed 
it  over.  About  ten  minutes  later  it  dawned  on  mc  that  I  had  not 
deducted  the  cost  of  the  cigars  as.  in  my  mental  perturbation, 
I  had  handed  over  the  entire  five  dollars  in  silver. 

^Vfter  a  week  or  so  in  this  "  res])onsib]e  "  position,  I  secured 
a  job  to  take  up  cattle  to  Alaska.  On  ap])]ying  for  it  I  was  asked 
as  usual  whether  I  knew  anything  about  the  work.  Ivnployers 
nowadays  seem  far  too  inquisitive.  To  this  iiupcitinent  qiies- 

75 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

tioii  I  replied  diplomatically :  "  Not  very  much ;  but  I  know 
a  great  deal  about  sheep."  Observing  quite  a  large  number  of 
those  harmless-looking  animals  in  the  pens,  I  felt  quite  safe 
in  saying  that  ;  though  I  must  confess  I  didn't  half  like  the 
look  of  the  big-homed  steers  in  the  corrals.  Howevei-,  I  felt  I 
had  to  live  and  learn.  Of  the  latter  I  felt  confident,  though 
somewhat  doubtful  of  the  former.  Those  hoi'ns  looked  so  sharp 
and  long. 

Whatever  the  cattle  boss  may  have  thouglit  he  anyway  kept 
to  himself  and  hired  me.  I  returned  to  my  store  and  informed 
my  old  real  estate  friend  that  I  was  leaviiig  the  Jicxt  day  for 
Alaska  ^^'ith  a  bunch  of  cattle.  The  old  chap  shook  his  head 
dismally  when  he  heard  of  my  intention  and  Avarned  me  that  in 
two  or  three  months  the  Klondyke  winter  would  set  in.  He 
also  told  me  tales  of  the  dire  distress  that  I  might  experience. 
Not  being  any  too  confident  myself  as  to  the  wisdom  of  my 
intention,  this  old  croaker's  words  rather  confii-med  my  fear 
that  I  was  taking  big  chances,  which,  indeed,  was  the  case  to  a 
greater  extent  than  I  was  aware.  However,  I  bluntly  said  I  was 
going  and  that  everything  was  settled. 

Early  the  follo^ving  morning  I  was  down  at  the  docks  and 
helped  to  feed  the  cattle — from  the  outside  of  the  pens  fortun- 
ately ;  for  I  had  been  rather  fearing  that  it  might  be  expected 
of  me  to  enter  the  corrals  and  distribute  the  foddei-  amongst  the 
steers.  Luckily  I  was  spared  that  oi-deal.  otherwise  I  i-ather 
doubt  whether  these  lines  would  ever  liave  been  ])enned.  I  was 
further  very  pleased  to  note  that  the  boss  kept  just  as  discreet 
a  distance  from  the  horns  of  the  cattle  as  I  did. 

Three  other  young  fellows  were  also  hired  to  go  up  with  the 
cattle  ;  one  was  an  Englishman,  another  a  Scotsman,  and  the 
third  a  full-blown  Cockney  who  said  he  was  Irisli.  Tlic  '"  Irish- 
man's "  horrible  twang  made  the  most  profane  and  slangy 
American  sound  like  music  in  my  ears.  We  cliristeiied  him 
"  Irish  "  then  and  there,  and  ])y  tluit  nickname  he  was  always 
known.  He  told  me  a  little  time  afterwards,  in  confidence,  that 
he  was  an  ex-potman  from  East  Ham.  The  Scot  (he  was  always 

76 


SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  CANADA 

known  as  "  Scotty  ")  and  the  young  Englishman,  Ted,  were 
both  well  educated  ;  and,  as  neither  was  a  remittance-man,  they 
were  in  consequence  two  real  good  fellows,  the  rough  life  out 
West  having  made  men  of  both  of  them.  We  were  as  dissimilar 
as  possible  so  we  got  on  splendidly  together. 

From  seven  in  the  evening  till  midnight  we  were  kept  busy 
driving  the  cattle,  sheep  and  pigs  on  board  the  steamer.  The 
sheep  and  pigs  were  all  put  into  the  lower  holds  with  some 
of  the  cattle,  though  the  greater  part  of  the  latter  were  stowed 
on  deck  in  the  for'd  and  aft'  well-decks,  divided  off  in  roughly 
constructed  wooden  pens.  The  steamer  on  which  we  were 
sailing  was  a  fairly  large  cargo  boat  of  seventeen  hundred 
tons — the  s.s.  Ilalvard — ^which,  with  her  sister  ship,  the 
Haldis — made  regular  trips  to  Alaska  during  the  open  season. 
I  came  across  both  these  boats  in  China  some  years  afterwards. 

The  drove  of  pigs  we  had  to  drive  to  the  docks  from  a  yard 
some  distance  away,  through  the  streets  of  the  town.  On  our 
way  one  wilful  pig  went  off  on  his  own  account,  and,  though  we 
searched  high  and  low  for  him  for  a  good  hour  and  more,  he 
beat  us.  He  remained  at  large  and  may  to  this  day,  for  all  I 
know,  be  roaming  the  streets  of  Vancouver.  We  had  great 
difficulty  in  getting  the  others  all  down  to  the  docks  in  safety, 
as  many  of  them  seemed  not  a  little  anxious  to  follow  the 
example  of  their  erring  brother.  I  learnt  quite  a  lot  about  pigs 
in  that  one  hour.  Whilst  thus  occupied  I  was  imagining  what 
would  have  been  said  of  one  doing  such  work  as  this — driving 
pigs — through,  say,  the  streets  of  some  select  suburb  of  London. 
I  could  picture  the  uplifted  noses  and  stony  glare  of  one's 
aristocratic  relations  and  acquaintances.  One  would  be  im- 
mediately ranked  in  the  Legion  of  the  Lost. 

After  the  work  of  loading  the  live-stock  and  the  fodder  was 
completed,  some  large  pieces  of  mining  and  dredging  machinery 
were  put  on  board  ;  great  quantities  were  then  being  sent  up 
yearly  for  use  in  the  Klondyke  and  Tanana  gold  districts. 
Nearly  all  the  machinery  was  of  American  manufacture.  The 
cattle  and  the  other  live-stock  were  British.  The  greater  part 

77 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

of  the  cattle  eanie  Iroin  Calgai-y,  being  ]-ailed  from  tliere  to 
Vancouver.  In  the  early  days  of  the  Klondyke  the  only  supply 
of  meat  obtaina])le  by  those  up  in  the  ]iorthland  was  that  sent 
u])  by  tlie  cold-storage  companies.  In  I'ecent  years,  Iiowevci', 
live-stock  is  i-egulai'ly  sent  up  to  Dawson  City  from  Canada 
and  the  States,  and  there  slaughtered.  C'old-stoi'age  meat  finds 
pi'aetically  no  demand  in  Alaska  to-day. 

We  mannged  ])iioi-  to  sailing  to  snatch  a  little  sleep  lying  on 
bales  of  e()ni])i-essed  hay.  in  spite  of  the  hubbub  of  loading  cargo 
and  the  noise  of  the  cattle  moving,  so  far  as  their  cramped 
quartei's  A\()nid  ]jcrmit  them.  We  had  altogethei'  one  hundied 
and  thill  \'  steers,  three  hundi-ed  and  fifty  sheep  and  fifty  i)igs 
on   l)oard. 

^Ve  got  under  way  just  bcfoi'c  daybreak  and  steamed 
through  the  Gulf  of  Cieorgia,  between  the  Isle  of  \^ancouver  and 
the  maJnland.  ^Vhen  the  sun  I'ose  the  shoi'cs  of  British  C'ohnnbia 
looked  vei'y  pictui'Cscpic  ;  in  the  light  of  its  early  I'ays  the  deep 
green  of  the  countiy.  covered  with  luxuriant  timbc!'.  ])resented 
a  vei'v  lovely  scene. 

Aftei'  breakfast  we  stai'ted  feeding  and  v,-atering  the  live- 
stock. ^Vitl!  the  pigs  and  sheep  this  was  easily  done  :  l)ut  not  so 
^vith  the  cattle,  as  the  steamer  liad  none  of  the  ordinai'v  facil- 
ities of  slii])s  in  the  cattk--cari'ying  trade.  The-  bales  of  hay  wei'c 
all  lying  in  the  lower  hold,  so  each  bale  had  to  ])e  hauled  u])  by 
hand,  and  this  was  by  no  means  a  light  task  on  account  of  their 
weight.  >Vhcu  suilicient  fodder  had  been  hauled  up.  we  stai'ted 
disti'ibuting  it  amongst  the  cattle  in  their  ])ens.  In  the  open  pens 
this  was  not  diliicult.  but  in  the  ])ai't  of  the  "tween  decks  where 
some  of  the  cattle  wc-i'e  stowed  it  was  a  more  irksome  and 
dangei-ous  task,  as  it  neee-^sitated  one  of  us  going  into  the  pen, 
r(cei\-iiig  (he  fodder  From  those  outside:  and  distributing  it 
amongst  the  cattle  \\"ithiii.  ^Vhilst  engaged  in  this  work  one 
needed  to  kec'])  a  \\'ai\\'  eye  on  the  mo\'ement-^  of  tlie  steers  to 
a\oid  getting  jammed  or  hoi'iied  by  any  of  them.  \Ve  all  took 
tui'iis  at  this  rather  risky  jol). 

When   the   feeding   was    finished,    ^ve   started   \\atering   the 

78 


SOME  EXPEIUKXCES  IX  CAXADA 

cattle.  This  we  had  to  do  in  a  most  j)i'imitivc  niainier,  lor  \vc 
had  only  wooden  troughs  available  for  the  ])iir])ose.  They  wer(; 
lour  feet  by  one  foot,  with  a  rope  attached  at  either  end,  l)y 
which  means  we  lowered  the  trough  into  the  ])en.  When  the 
trough  was  in  the  pen  we  turned  the  hose  on  and  hlled  it. 
13ut  few  really  got  a  proper  drink,  owing  to  the  little  space  in 
which  the  cattle  had  to  move ;  for  one  to  turn  was  almost  an 
impossible  task.  Further,  we  could  only  water  them  from  one 
side,  as  the  o})positc  side  was  the  shiji's  bulwarks.  Their  move- 
ments, too,  often  tm-ned  over  the  trough  ;  and  it  was  quite 
a  lengthy  performance  before  all  of  the  animals  were  watered. 
\Vc  were  compelled  also  to  make  pretty  free  use  of  our  sticks  to 
turn  the  animals  round,  as  b\'  some  streak  of  contrariness  they 
all  seemed  to  prefer  facing  the  sea,  the  side  from  which  w"e  could 
not  water  tliem. 

After  the  watering  of  tlie  cattle  the  iroii  decks  of  the  steamer 
became  very  slippei-y,  and  the  poor  animals  had  a  very  rough 
time.  Fortunately,  the  rolling  of  the  ship  was  not  very  great 
as  we  wei'c  steaming  thi'ough  sheltered  waters,  but  what  there 
was  added  to  their  discomfort.  In  more  than  one  instance  we  had 
to  get  inside  the  pens  to  force  some  animal  on  to  its  feet  again 
after  it  had  slipped  down  and  was  in  danger  of  being  trampled 
to  death  under  the  feet  of  the  other  oxen.  We  had,  I  fear,  only 
too  frequently  to  use  our  heavy  sticks  before  the  day's  woi'k 
was  finished.  Handling  cattle  is  hardly  a  woman's  woi-k  ! 

Late  in  the  afteiiioon  we  anchored  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Seymour  Xarrows  to  wait  for  the  tide.  It  was  then  iji  the  cool 
of  the  da}',  and  we  four  cattle-boys,  having  finished  our  work 
save  for  an  occasional  tour  of  inspection,  were  seated  on  the 
fioo])  smoking  and  chatting.  The  steamc]-  lay  within  a  stone's- 
tlu'ou'  From  the  shore  and  we  had  a  perfect  view  of  the  beautiful 
wooded  hills  that  lay  so  close.  The  sea  Wiis  quite  smooth  and 
calm  ;  nothing  distm'bed  its  sui-face  save  the  occasional  plunge 
of  a  silver-backed  salmon  out  of  the  shining  waters. 

After  dark  we  weighed  anchor  and  steamed  through  the 
Narrows,  Wc  all  turned  in  early  the  first  night  as  we  had  not 

79 


A    AVAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

had  much  rest  the  preceding  night.  I  say  turned  in  ;  but  we  had 
nothing  to  turn  in  to,  as  our  l^eds  consisted  only  of  the  bales 
of  hay  that  were  in  the  hold.  On  these  we  lay,  wrapped  in  our 
blankets,  and  endeavoured  to  get  as  warm  as  we  could.  The 
farther  iiorth  we  got  naturally  the  colder  the  nights  became, 
and  the  nights  on  the  Pacific  Coast  even  during  the  summer 
always  strike  fairly  chilly.  The  dew,  too,  is  very  heavy. 

The  following  morning  was  foggy  and  we  were  compelled  to 
anchor  for  some  hours,  as  off  these  coasts  careful  navigation  is 
essential.  Shortly  after  noon  the  fog  lifted  and  we  resumed  our 
voyage.  We  steamed  through  Queen  Charlotte  Sound  and  when 
outside  we  felt  the  swell  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  which  caused  a 
certain  amount  of  motion  to  the  ship,  the  live-stock  in  conse- 
quence suffering  badly  as  they  were  unable  to  keep  their  feet 
on  the  slippery  decks. 

After  crossing  the  sound  we  ran  again  into  sheltei'cd  waters, 
between  the  mainland  and  the  countless  islands  that  lie  off  the 
coast.  The  scenery  here  was  truly  magnificent  !  Picturesque 
islets,  thickly  wooded  to  the  water's  edge,  lay  on  one  side,  whilst 
on  the  other  stretched  the  shores  of  the  mainland,  green  and 
luxuriously  timbered,  in  the  background  of  which  loomed  the 
towering  mountains  Avith  their  snow-capped  peaks  shining  white 
in  the  sun's  rays.  The  fore^^t-clad  slopes  of  the  shores  seemed  to 
be  almost  witliin  arm's  reach.  And  what  a  wealth  of  resources 
lay  there  !  Timber  in  abundance.  Forests  of  fir.  pine  and  beech 
reared  their  noble  heads  over  the  clear  waters  at  their  feet. 
Plentiful  also  were  the  salmon  that  leapt  in  countless  numbers 
out  of  the  sliining  seas.  And  mineral  wealth  untold  lay  near 
those  towering  peaks — silent  sentinels  of  treasure. 

Our  first  stop  was  at  tlie  small  port  of  Kutehikan,  the  port 
of  entry  for  Alaska,  where-  all  the  custom-house  requirements 
of  th('  United  States  Coxernment  have  to  be  fulfilled.  Steaming 
nortli  and  skiitiiig  the  slujres  of  the  mainland,  some  even  more 
impressive  and  magiiilieent  scenery  revealed  itself.  Beryl-blue 
glaciers,  lodged  between  mountains  covered  with  eternal  snows, 
gleamed  over   Liie  forests   lliaL  stretched  away  to  the  coasts. 

80 


A;  \-K  \.     \   '  '  ''"x  I  l,^•   .  ii     :Mi  i;i;--;\  I-;   w  i  i  I  'M;  \  i.~-    \\  ; 


\    ■   i;  w  I  'i;i"  I. 


SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  CANADA 

Round  us  lay  countless  wooded  islands  ;  over  us  towered  ranges 
of  snowy  hills  overshadowing  pine-clad  slopes  through  which 
beautiful  cascades  leapt  into  the  sea.  Switzerland  was  out- 
rivalled  ! 

Two  days  after  leaving  Ketchikan  we  steamed  through  the 
quiet  waters  of  the  Lynn  Canal,  at  the  head  of  which  lay  Skagway 
— our  destination.  We  berthed  alongside  the  wharf  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  fifth  day  out,  near  by  the  little  river  of  Skagway 
which  leads  up  to  the  once-dreaded  White  Pass — ^the  gateway  of 
the  Yukon. 

We  had  been  fortunate  in  not  losing  on  the  voyage  any  of  the 
stock,  for  loss  occurs  f]-equently  on  steamers  where  no  provision 
is  made  for  the  cattle. 

I  had  now  to  decide  whether  I  would  accompany  the  cattle 
up  the  Yukon  to  Klondyke,  or  seek  my  fortune  in  South 
Alaska. 


Si 


CHAPTER    VI 

IX    ALASKA 

OX  ari'ivn]  in  Alaska  I  found  myself  with  choice  of  three 
moves.  I  could  go  on  with  the  cattle  u])  to  Dawson 
City,  remain  in  or  I'ound  Skagway,  or  return  to  Canada 
])y  the  Ilalvard  as  a  sailor  before  the  mast.  I  abandoned  the  idea 
of  accompanying  the  cattle  into  Klojidyke  on  account  of  the 
vci'y  pessimistic  talcs  I  lieard  on  all  sides  of  the  scarcity  of  work 
and  the  bad  state  of  affairs  in  general  prevailing  in  the  Yukon 
and  the  Tanana  districts.  As  there  seemed  also  nothing  doing 
in  Skagway  itself,  my  thoughts  were  reluctajitly  dii'ceted  toA\-ards 
]'etui'ning  to  Canada — a  coui'se  I  ^\•as  unwilli]ig  to  adojjt.  'fhen 
Fate  in  a  rathei'  ])eculiar  manner  decided  for  me.  Sullicient  ioj' 
me  to  say  now — I  did  ]iot  sail  ])y  the  Ilalvard. 

^Vhen  the  cattle  wove  all  off-loaded  and  my  work  finished  I 
took  a  sti'oll  through  the  little  town  of  Skagway.  which  mei'cly 
consisted  of  a  collection  of  wooden  shacks  scaitcicd  al)()n1  the 
foot  of  the  mountains.  'I'here  A\as  one  main  sfi'cc-t  lined  \\\\\]  stores 
and  sho])N.  In  a  steanishi])  panrphk't  I  had  read  thai  the  to^\■n  of 
Skagway  ])Ossesse(l  U])-to-dafe  stoi'es  and  man}'  neat  hon^cs  \s-ith 
])retty  gardens  ;  further  men1  ion  was  ako  made  in  this  ])ani])]ilet 
of  the  fact  that  there  Avas  much  in  Skagway  jind  lis  \-ieimt\'  to 
atti'aet  the  tourist.  As  ix'ga.rds  the  u])-io-(h!te  stoixs  and  neat 
houses  I  must  say  that  the  few  I  saw  wnc  e(.)nspicuously  rare; 
and  I  could  nof  name  aiix'thing  tha(  siiuck  me  as  offei-ing  a]i\' 
greaf  atfraelions  (o  Die  iomisl.  unless  il  were  ilic  mmihers  of 
cnrpf  \'  haelss  ihal  Sl-.a-'Way  jx.s-.es-c.l  n  llc^  oF  her  p;(s(  gweaf- 
ncs ,  !  Ska;i,u;(\  iii  il,.-  da  •,  .  oj  ":»;  .atid  "lis  hou  rd  it-:  ii\(  or  -.ix 
Ihousajid.  whereas  lo-day  il  docs  jiot  hold  as  many  hundreds. 

It  was  iji  the  raelvtraJn  Saloon — the  one  and  only  saloon  in 


IN  ALASKA 

the  town  and  the  scene  of  many  an  orgy  and  brawl — that  I  met 
the  man  who  decided  for  me  my  course  of  action  and  who  became 
my  companion,  or  "  pardner,"  dm-ing  most  of  my  stay  in  the 
northland. 

At  first  sight  we  had  many  points  in  common.  We  were  both 
young,  we  were  both  out  of  jobs,  and  we  were  both  almost  broke 
■ — the  latter  being  an  ever-common  bond  between  us.  He  told 
me  that  he  had  just  come  down  from  Dawson,  where  he  had  been 
working  for  inost  of  the  time  as  a  dish-washer  in  a  restaurant. 
He  had  also  been  the  secretary  of  the  labour  union  up  there,  for 
he  was  a  very  well-educated  fellow,  and  an  ardent  socialist  to 
Ijoot.  I  think  two  years  of  dish- washing  in  Klondyke,  with 
for  many  months  a  tempci-atiu'e  of  70°  "  below,"  would  be 
sufficient  to  make  aiiyoiie  a  socialist.  It  spoke  highly,  I  thiiik, 
foi'  my  pai'tncr's  strength  of  mind  that  he  was  not  an  anarchist. 
A  fc^v  days  previously  he  had  come  into  Skagway  from  a  small 
])Iacc  called  Robinson,  which  lay  midway  between  the  town  and 
Whitehoi-.sc.  In  this  place  he  had  spent  a  few  weeks  after  leaving 
tlie  Klondyke,  and  whilst  there  had  located  a  copper  claim  in  one 
of  the  hills  just  outside  the  settlement.  He  had  been,  however, 
done  out  of  tlie  claim  through  some  technicality,  and  it  was 
I'cckoned  to  be  wortli  fully  twcjity  thousand  dollars.  The  claim, 
in  one  sense,  was  ]iot  really  liis  :  ''  located  "  was  hai'dly  the  word 
I  should  have  used.  To  endeavour  to  ex})Iain  to  my  readei"  the 
exact  position  of  the  whole  afl'aii'  would  take  me  too  long,  but 
briefly  to  sum  up  the  position  it  was  this  :  ^My  ])artner  had 
'■  juiu})C(l  "  a  claim  from  a  woman,  who  in  tui-n  had  "  jumped  " 
it  I'l'om  h.er  ])artnci',  wlio  was  in  Xcw  York.  The  woman,  in- 
cidentally, ran  a  gin  sho])  without  a  licence  and  she  further  owed 
five  hundred  dollars  to  the  brothei'  of  the  Ofticial  llecordei'  at 
R()l>inson.  The  I'eader  may  suggest  that  he  is  none  the  wiser  now, 
and  may  ask  v,h;it  on  earth  these  lattei'  facts  have  to  do  with  the 
ease.  ]>ul  tlieie  is  a  sinqjle  explanation.  The  wliole  question  was 
one  o]  my  paitner's  word  against  that  of  the  ^\'oman  (hei'  partner 
in  Xew  York  was  not  in  the  act  at  all — he  was  hnished  !),  and 
the  decision  rested  with  the  llecordei'  at  Robinson.  Now,  the 

83 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Recorder  kiiew  full  well  that  if  he  gave  the  decision  in  favour  of 
my  partner  his  brother  would  never  get  back  his  five  hundred 
dollars,  whereas,  if  he  decided  in  the  woman's  favour,  there  was 
still  a  sporting  chance.  Hence  his  verdict  !  The  legal  question 
was  all  one  of  time — which  of  the  two  had  re-located  the  claim 
first  after  it  lapsed  ?  According  to  my  partner  the  woman 
perjured  herself  till  further  oi'ders.  There  was  one  strong  point 
against  her,  and  that  was  in  my  partner's  words  :  "We  can  get 
her  run  out  of  the  country  for  selling  liquor  without  a  licence  !  " 

My  companion  had  been  up  till  then  too  dispirited  to  take  any 
further  steps,  but  my  youthful  and  sanguine  temperament  in- 
stilled into  him  fresh  hope  and  energy.  Then  and  there  in  tlie 
saloon  we  joined  forces  ;  pooled  our  capital — I  had  eleven  dollars, 
my  partner  two — and  after  a  lengthy  confab  decided  to  "  count 
the  ties  "  over  the  trail  to  Robinson,  as  there  were  still  remaining 
twelve  days  out  of  the  period  of  thirty  allowed  to  lodge  our 
protest.  ;My  companion,  I  might  incidentally  I'cmai'k,  was  a 
glutton  for  coffee  ;  how  many  cups  of  coffee  he  drank  during 
our  consultations  I  would  not  like  to  say. 

The  following  morning  we  purchased  food  for  three  days,  and 
other  necessary  articles  including  a  gun.^  But  little  remained 
of  our  small  capital  when  he  had  completed  our  purchases,  and 
the  prospects  for  the  success  of  our  venture  were  hardly  of  the 
brightest.  Lack  of  the  '"  ready  "  was  our  stumbling-block  ;  if  we 
had  had  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars,  half  of  which  to  place  in 
the  haiids  of  a  smart  and  possibly  not  over-scrupulous  lawyer, 
we  should  have,  I  really  believe  to  this  vei'v  day,  recovered  that 
mining  claim.  We  started  out  over  the  trail  late  in  the  after- 
Jioon  keeping  to  the  course  of  the  railway  tlu'ough  Skagway 
Valley,  and  once  out  of  sight  of  the  little  town  we  began  the 
steady  climb  over  the  rugged  mountains.  The  trail  led  along  the 
])reeipitous  sides  of  the  mountains  that  overlooked  the  foaming 
Skagway  Rivei-.  Toiis  of  rock  had  had  to  be  blasted  out  to  mala: 
\vay  for  the  railway — a  railway  which  was,  indeed,  a  triumph  for 
Britisli  engineering  skill  and  perseverance. 

'  I.e.  rc\ulver — all  such  are  Lermcd  "  guns  "  m  the  \\'est. 

64 


IN    ALASKA 

After  walking  steadily  for  a  couple  of  hours  with  our  packs  on 
our  backs  we  left  the  trail  along  the  railroad  and  descended  to 
the  old  one  which  had  been  trodden  by  few  since  the  early  days. 
Beside  the  trail,  here  and  there,  we  passed  by  little  heaps  of 
stones — the  graves  of  some  who  fell  by  the  wayside  in  that  mad 
rush  to  Klondyke  when  pioneers  dragged  their  bleeding  feet 
up  the  icy  stairways  of  the  White  Pass  !  As  I  gazed  up  at  the 
peaks  above  me  I  thought  on  the  tragedies  those  silent  moun- 
tains of  eternal  snows  must  have  witnessed,  the  sights  they  must 
have  beheld  !  ]Men  dying  with  their  packs  on  their  backs,  frozen 
to  death,  heedlessly  passed  by — heroes  fighting  epic  battles 
with  the  elements  ;  men  quarrelling  like  wolves,  their  very  vitals 
seared  by  the  icy  cold;  men  swept  away  in  scores,  like  chaff 
before  the  wind,  by  the  resistless  force  of  the  snowy  avalanche.^ 
Never  did  sentinels  guard  more  faithfully  Nature's  treasure- 
troves  than  did  the  precipitous  White  Pass  and  the  rock-scarred 
Chileoot,  throttling  the  hopes  and  lives  of  so  many  who  sought 
to  enter  the  Valley  of  the  Yukon.  Nature's  wisdom  was  indeed 
never  more  manifest  than  here  in  the  stern  White  Pass  truly 
named- — the  Gateway  of  the  Yukon.  None  but  those  who  could 
pay  the  toll — the  fitness  and  the  strength  to  battle  with  the 
privations  of  life  in  the  frozen  north— were  allowed  to  enter  ; 
the  faint-hearted  and  the  weak  were  stopped  and  turned  back 
on  the  threshold.  Thus  was  prevented  a  great  tragedy — ^the 
tragedy  of  the  Yukon  becoming  a  graveyard  of  thousands  slain 
by  the  hand  of  the  Arctic  winter.  And  the  magnet?  Gold!  Gold, 
against  which  all  acid  is  powerless,  is  surely  itself  an  acid  more 
powerful  than  any  known  to  our  scientists.  It  dissolved  in  those 
prosperous  days  of  '97  the  bonds  of  honour  and  friendship  as 
effectively  as  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  swept  the  mist  in  the 
Skagway  Valley.  So  intense  became  the  hatred,  where  before  had 
been  love,  that  it  was  no  unusual  occurrence  for  a  division  of  all 
goods  in  common  to  take  place  on  the  mountain-sides,  the  one 
canoe  even  being  severed  in  two  to  prevent  one  obtaining  any 

1  A  party  of  pioneers  were,  nearly  to  a  man,  swept  to  their  deatli  by  a 
sudden  avalanche  of  Chileoot  Pass  in  the  winter  of  '97: 

^5 


A   WAXDERET^'S  TRAIL 

advantage  over  the  other.  The  last  scene  in  that  drama  is  not 
hard  to  imagine— two  unburied  bodies,  whose  last  thoughts 
were  only  of  hatred  and  murder. 

We  camped  for  the  night  at  a  "  half-way  house  "  almost  in 
ruins — a  relic  of  the  pioncci-  days.  It  was  fairly  cold,  and  after 
our  long  weary  trudge  packing  our  traps  over  the  rocky  trail  we 
were  not  sorry  to  rest.  Scrajjing  together  sonrc  wood,  including 
the  fragments  of  an  old  chair,  we  soon  had  a  good  hre  going. 
Hot  ])ork  and  beans  with  some  coffee  warmed  oui-  chilled  bodies, 
and  we  sat  late  into  the  night  yarning  and  smoking.  Thci'c  still 
remained  in  the  old  log-cabi]i  the  wooden  makeshift  of  a  couch, 
on  ^vhich  we  cuiled  ourselves  up  in  our  blankets  and  both  were 
soon  asleep. 

The  following  morning  my  companion  foimd  to  his  dismay 
that  he  could  barely  ])ut  his  foot  to  the  ground  owing  to  the 
I'cturn  of  an  old  sprain  due  to  the  exertions  of  the  ])revious  day. 
As  he  was  una])]e  to  ]3rocecd  without  much  paiii  wo  decided  to 
wait  there  one  day  and  go  on  the  day  following.  I  occupied  my 
time  whilst  my  companion  rested  in  following  the  course  of  a 
creek  that  ran  through  the  mountains,  ever  hoping  against 
hope  that  I  might  discover  gold.  When  a  man  is  in  such  pjirts  as 
these — 'way  off  the  licaten  track  and  in  a  known  gold  region — ■ 
he  seems  to  be  obsessed  with  but  one  idea — to  find  gold.  To  find 
gold  he  feels  as  though  he  would  sell  his  soul,  honoiu',  and  e\'en 
his  chances  in  the  next  world. 

"  There's  .trold  ai:d  its  haunting  and  haunting  ; 
It's  hiring  mc  on  as  of  old  ; 
Vet  it  isn't  the  gold  that  I'm  wantini^, 
So  much  as  just  finding  the  gold."  ' 

Every  now  and  then  some  glittering  stone  or  piece  of  quartz 
in  the:  running  creek  would  I'aise  my  ho])es.  only,  however,  on 
closer  examination  to  be  dashed.  Gold  never  glitters  !  The  usual 
pros])ector\s  test  for  gold  is  when  the  dull  yellow  substance  in  the 
quartz  has  the  same  appearance  and  colour  from  whatever  angle 
^  "  Songs  of  a  Sourdough  "  ^K.  Service^. 
86 


IX    ALASKA 

he  looks  at  it.  Between  virgin  gold  and  the  wedding  ring,  between 
the  uncut  diamond  and  the  stone  in  the  engagement  ring — 
there  is  a  vast  diffei'ence  !  After  a  long  and  tiring  day,  tramping 
over  rocky  boulders  and  wading  through  sti'eams,  I  directed  my 
footsteps  towards  the  camp  ;  and  not  till  then  did  I  notice  how 
tired  I  was,  so  absorbed  had  I  been  in  my  search. 

I  found  my  companion  seated  beside  a  roaring  fire,  I'cading 
some  ancient  magazines  wliich  he  had  rummaged  out  of  the 
debris  and  rubbish  accumulated.  After  a  good  meal  we  sat  by 
the  fire  and  gazed  in  silence  up  at  the  gloomy  mountains  which 
sui-rounded  and  oveilooked  us.  It  was  all  very  quiet  and  still 
save  for  the  distant  sound  of  a  mountain  stream  pouring  its 
waters  into  its  rocky  bed,  the  faint  cry  of  a  night-bi]d,  and  the 
gentle  swish  of  the  breeze  tlu'ough  the  timber  close  by. 

The  next  day  my  partner's  leg  was  but  little  bettei-,  and,  as 
our  sup]:)ly  of  food  would  not  permit  us  to  go  on  by  easy  stages 
ovei'  the  ti'ail  to  Robinson,  there  remained  no  other  alternative 
but  that  of  returning  to  Skagway  and  abandoning  once  and  for 
all  our  enterprise.  It  was  rather  hard  luck — a  case  of  so  near  and 
yet  so  far  ! 

In  passing  I  would  i^emark  that  this  attempt  was  my  nearest 
to  making  a  fortune.  All  the  foi'tunes  seem  to  have  been  made 
before  my  arrival  in  the  various  countries  I  have  visited  ;  at 
least,  judging  by  the  fact  that  I  am  to-day  still  as  poor  as  a 
church  mouse  and  by  the  thrilling  tales  that  I  was  regaled 
with  in  so  many  places  of  the  fortunes  made  in  "  the  good  old 
days." 

The  next  day  saw  two  dispirited  and  weary-looking  objects 
trudging  in  silence  aloiig  the  trail  in  the  direction  of  Skagway. 
They  talked  l^ut  little,  but  gathered  every  now  and  then  some 
of  the  wild  raspberries  that  grew  in  pi'ofusion  on  the  mountain 
slo])cs.  The  contrast  between  the  warm  summer  in  Alaska  and 
the  rigorous  cold  of  the  winter  is  very  great.  The  summer  is  as 
warm  as  iu  Oregon,  flowci's  bloom  and  vegetables  grow  in  ]jlenty. 
In  the  Avinter,  on  the  other  harid,  the  land  sleeps  under  its  cloak 
of  snow  and  ice  against  wliich  nothing  can  prevail  ;  the  glass 

«7 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

sinks  to  70°  "  below  "  and  tlie  land  is  all  but  wrapped  in 
living  darkness. 

We  readied  Skagway  late  in  the  evening.  Our  position  was  not 
exactly  cheering.  We  had  three  dollars  between  us,  and,  when 
we  had  left,  the  prospect  of  getting  work  was  not  vei'y  bright. 
However,  Fate  was  good  to  us  ;  two  men  got  druiik  that  night  ! 
That  meant  that  on  the  morrow  two  vacancies  in  the  gangs 
working  on  the  wharf  ^vere  filled  by  my  partner  and  myself. 
Our  work  consisted  of  trucking  freight  from  the  sheds  and 
loading  it  in  the  railroad  cars  which  ran  alongside.  Every  now 
and  then  we  were  also  called  upon  to  do  longshoring — to  unload 
the  steamers  when  their  time  was  short.  The  work  was  hard, 
but  after  a  day  or  two  of  it  I  got  into  the  swing,  being  now  in 
fairly  good  trim,  and  found  nine  hours  of  manual  work  in 
Alaska  not  much  harder  than  sitting  for  a  like  period  in  an 
office.  The  pay  was  thirty-five  cents  an  hour. 

Having  got  work  my  partner  and  I  rented  for  four  dollars  a 
month  one  of  the  many  empty  shacks  that  made  up  the  town 
of  Skagway.  There  was  still  some  furniture  left  in  it — a  large 
wooden  bed,  a  table,  a  stove  and  a  couple  of  chairs  ;  they  were 
all  that  we  really  required.  We  bought  a  stock  of  groceries  on 
credit,  and  after  our  day's  work  we  would  buy  some  meat  or 
some  fish  for  our  evening  meal.  Halibut  was  plentiful  in  the  sea 
off  the  shoi-e,  so  this  fish  we  were  able  to  buy  very  cheaply. 
Bacon  and  eggs,  too,  often  appeared  on  our  menu. 

Our  life  during  these  days  was  not  vei'y  exciting.  We  ^^'ould  be 
at  our  A\ork  on  the  wharf  by  seven  in  the  moi-ning  and  would 
knock  off  at  six  in  the  evening,  with  a  break  of  one  liourat  mid- 
day. Aftei'  our  supper  we  would  yarn  and  smoke  till  about  nine 
o'clock  when  we  turned  in  ;  for,  as  we  had  to  be  up  by  six  in  the 
morning,  we  could  not  afford  to  keep  late  hours,  esjjceially  after 
a  hard  day's  work.  Saturday  evening  was  generally  more  lively, 
and  Sunday  was  indeed  a  day  of  rest.  In  fact,  I  do  not  think  I  ever 
appi'eeiated  ^ny  Sundays  so  much  as  I  did  then  after  a  week  of 
hai'd  "graft."  A  long  sleep  well  into  the  morning  would  be 
followed  by  a  general  clean  up  of  the  shack,  of  the  plates  and 

88 


IX    ALASKA 

dishes,  and  finally  of  ourselves,  who  perhaps  needed  it  most. 
When  this  was  finished  one  of  us  would  take  up  an  axe  and  set 
off  to  chop  a  week's  supply  of  firewood,  often  breaking  into  an 
empty  shack  and  utilising  some  of  the  spare  wood  lying  about 
there.  And  we  were  not  at  all  particular  as  to  what  we  con- 
verted into  firewood.  It  would  be  not  far  off  sunset  by  then, 
and  our  supper  would  be  followed  by  a  yarn  and  smoke.  My 
companion-in-toil  was  a  most  entertaining  fellow  and  talked 
very  well.  Besides  being  well  read,  his  hard  experiences  of  the 
seamy  and  sordid  side  of  life  had  taught  him  much — for  there  is 
no  better  teacher  than  Experience  !  He  had  been  out  West  then 
over  six  years.  His  favourite  subject  was  Socialism,  and,  when 
he  was  discussing  his  pet  topic,  his  eyes  would  flash  and  he 
would  speak  with  much  fervour,  his  fluent  flow  of  language  at 
times  almost  approaching  eloquence. 

After  we  had  been  housekeeping  together  for  a  couple  of 
weeks,  my  companion  had  to  leave  me  and  take  a  shack  of  his 
own,  as  he  developed  some  skin  disease,  which  he  must  have 
caught  amongst  the  mountains  wliere  there  was  much  poisoned 
ivy.  It  was  nothing  of  a  serious  nature  but,  being  contagious,  it 
necessitated  his  moving, 

Skagway,  the  name  of  which  in  the  Indian  dialect  means 
"  windy,"  fully  lived  up  to  its  title.  Through  the  gorge  between 
the  lofty  mountains,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  little  town  lay,  the 
wind  on  many  days  would  blow  v/ith  great  violence,  and  when 
it  rained,  as  it  did  very  frequently,  work  on  the  wharf  was  far 
from  pleasant.  But  one  can  get  used  to  anything  in  this  world, 
and  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  After  a  few  weeks  of  regular  life 
in  this  little  out-of-the-way  spot,  the  dark  and  sombre  surround- 
ings began  to  grow  on  me.  I  grew  accustomed  to  the  towering 
mountains  that  cast  their  gloomy  shadows  over  the  settlement 
at  tlieir  feet.  One  large  glacier,  lodged  between  two  jagged 
peaks,  on  which  the  rising  sun  threw  its  early  morning  rays  used 
to  gi-eet  my  sleepy  eyes  every  morning  as  I  threw  open  the  cabin 
door.  When  a  mist  hung  over  the  peaks  obscuring  them  from 
sight,  a  feeling  that  something  was  missing  used  to  come  over  me. 

89 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIT. 

My  companion  lel't  mc  in  tlic  middle  of  the  montli  of  Sep- 
tember, restless  and  anxious  to  return  to  the  States  after  an 
absence  of  two  years.  I  said  good-bye  to  him  with  feelings  of 
regret  as  we  had  l^cen  excellent  partnei's  wliilst  together,  I 
never  saw  him  again  ! 

Having  in  nn'nd  the  intention  to  go  into  Klondyke,  I  arranged 
to  take  up  the  last  bunch  of  cattle  for  the  year.  I  quit  my  job 
on  the  wharf  after  seven  weeks  of  regular  work,  during  which 
])ei'iod  I  had  saved  eighty  dollars  gold.  I  was  strongly  advised 
not  to  attempt  to  enter  the  Klondyke  at  that  time,  as  the 
winter  was  on  the  eve  of  setting  in,  the  nights  ah'cady  having 
conmienced  to  ])e  cold  and  frosty.  I  was  told  that  within  the 
short  space  of  two  weeks  the  Yukon  would  begin  to  freeze  over 
and  within  a  month  would  be  unnavigable.  Despite  all  this,  I 
determined  to  take  the  cattle  up  north.  Looking  back  to-day  I 
see  clearly  the  risks  I  i-an  but  then  ignored,  in  making  my  ti'ip 
into  the  Yukon  so  jieai-  the  approach  of  winter,  whilst  every 
steamer  was  briiiging  down  its  load  of  Imndreds  leaving  the 
noithland  to  "go  ])elow."  The  same  Providence,  liowever,  that 
watches  over  the  sailoi-  and  the  drunkard  jnust  have  kept  a 
watchful  eye  on  me  also. 

With  my  wad  of  greenbacks  in  my  pocket,  with  a  cheery  last 
word  to  my  pals,  I  boarded  the  train  on  which  were  already 
loaded  the  cattle  bound  for  tlie  Yukon. 


90 


chapti:r  VII 

DOWX    THE    YUKOX    TO    KLOXDYKE 

AS  tlio  trail!  drew  out  I  felt  more  like  aliglitino-  than  going 
on.  being  not  a  little  anxious  about  my  return.  All  my 
l'ellow-woik(M's  I  was  leaving  behind  must  liavc  thought 
I  was  mad  going  up  to  Dawson  at  that  time  of  the  year  ;  in 
faet,  some  of  them  flatly  told  me  so.  But  few  of  them  could 
vmderstand  the  desii'e,  so  strong  in  me,  to  sec  fi'esh.  places  and 
to  gain  new  experiences. 

From  Skagway  the  train  ran  along  the  trail  we  had  trodden 
some  weeks  before ;  near  the  hanging  I'ock  at  Clifton  I  looked 
down  into  the  valley  l)elow  and  caught  sight  ojice  again  of  the 
little  log-cabin  in  the  mountains  iji  which  we  had  spent  one  or 
two  nights.  The  train  consisted  of  only  four  coaches,  but  drawn 
by  three  engiiies  ;  this  should  give  an  idea  of  the  almost 
precipitous  heights  we  were  ascending.  Befoi'c  reaching  the 
White  Pass  we  passed  thi-ough  a  long  tunnel  and  then  over  a 
steel  cantilever  bridge  spanniiig  a  yawning  canon. 

We  reached  the  sununit  of  the  White  Pass  a  little  after  noon. 
It  had  taken  us  three  hours  to  cover  the  short  distance  of 
twenty  miles,  from  Skagway  to  the  top,  where  lay  the  bouiidary 
line  between  American  and  British  territory,  the  two  flags 
flying  within  a  few  feet  of  each  other. 

Thence  the  train  I'an  along  the  Thompson  River,  skirting 
many  siuall  lakes  and  streams.  We  reached  Lake  Bennett  at 
al)out  two  o'clock,  near  to  Avhieh  lay  the  town  of  the  same 
name,  a  small  settlement  of  wooden  shacks.  After  a  short  stay, 
we  resumed  om-  journey,  skirting  the  shores  of  the  lake  on  the 
eastern  side.  On  the  0])posite  side,  some  miles  across,  could  be 
seen  huge  mountains  that  rose  almost  precipitously  from  the 

91 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

water's  edge.  At  the  end  of  the  lake  we  came  to  the  small 
settlement  ol'  Caj'ibou  where  the  train  crossed  another  bridge. 

Still  going  north  wc  passed  numerous  lakes  and  rivers  ;  and 
had  sight  of  the  death-dealing  rapids  of  Miles  Canon  through 
which  in  the  early  days  boats  were  steered  with  the  Fear  of 
Death  for  pilot.  We  arrived  at  our  destination,  Whitehorse — 
the  terminus  of  the  railroad — at  half-past  six  in  the  evening.  It 
had  taken  us  nine  hours  to  cover  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and 
twelve  miles. 

After  the  cattle  had  been  transferred  from  the  train  into 
corrals  I  went  off  to  a  restaurant  close  by  to  get  a  meal,  and 
there  tasted  for  the  first  time  a  moose  steak,  which  seemed  to  me 
very  similar  to  a  beefsteak. 

Here  at  Whitehorse  I  had  my  last  chance  to  turn  back, 
whilst  there  was  yet  time,  I  found  I  was  the  only  solitary  one 
going  into  Klondyke,  whilst  every  boat  was  bringing  down 
its  hundreds  from  Dawson.  However,  I  decided  to  go  on  and 
risk  it. 

We  did  not  start  the  task  of  running  the  cattle  on  to  the  river 
boat,  the  last  to  go  down  the  river  for  the  year,  till  shortly  after 
three  in  the  morning.  It  was  very  cold  at  that  hour  and  the  clear 
frosty  sky  was  brightly  illuminated  by  the  noi'thern  lights, 
clearly  indicating  the  near  approach  of  winter.  It  ^vas  not  with- 
out much  shouting  and  cracking  of  long  whips  that  all  the 
cattle  were  put  on  board  before  daylight.  In  all  we  shipped 
forty-seven  steei-s,  thirty  calves,  and  a  score  of  sheep,  which  I 
was  commissioned  to  hand  over  to  their  owners  in  Dawson 
City. 

Just  before  sunrise  we  cast  off  our  lines  and  started  the 
passage  down  the  Yukon.  Towards  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning 
I  had  finished  my  work  of  feeding  and  watering  the  live-stock, 
and  had,  consequently,  plenty  of  time  and  opportunity  to  view 
my  surroundings. 

From  the  Whitehorse  Rapids  the  Yukon  ran  through  low 
and  liilly  country  ;  the  banks  were  green  and  in  places  flowers 
grow  abundantly.   It  was,  indeed,  at  times  hard  for  one  to 

92 


DOW^"   THE   YUKON   TO   KLONDYKE 

realise  that  one  was  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Arctic  Circle.  How- 
ever, on  the  second  day  much  of  the  scenery  was  more  rough 
and  rugged. 

A  rather  unusual  incident  happened  on  our  first  day  on  the 
river.  Whilst  I  was  down  on  the  lower  deck,  I  heard  shrill  blasts 
of  the  steamer's  whistle  continuously  sounding.  On  going  on 
deck  to  ascertain  the  cause  I  saw  ahead  of  us  two  large  moose 
swimming  across  the  river  within  fifty  yards  of  the  oncoming 
steamer.  Naturally  every  gun  on  the  boat  spoke,  resulting  in  the 
bag  of  one  of  the  animals,  the  other  having  the  sense  whilst 
there  was  yet  time  to  turn  back  to  the  bank  and  seek  shelter. 
It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  before  three  of  us  were  in  one 
of  the  ship's  boats  rowing  off  to  secure  our  prize.  The  animal 
weighed  over  three  hundred  pounds,  though  only  a  yearling. 

During  the  night  the  steamer  made  her  way  along  the  river 
by  means  of  a  powerful  searchlight,  the  rays  of  which  illumin- 
ated the  dark  wooded  banks  and  gloomy  surrounding  country. 
Here  and  there  the  light  flickered  on  jagged  boulders  over 
which  the  fast-flowing  river  tumbled.  After  two  days'  steaming 
with  the  current  we  tied  up  at  Dawson. 

It  was  just  before  dawn  when  the  famous  city  of  the  Klondyke 
loomed  in  sight,  just  outside  the  Arctic  Circle. 

In  the  cold  small  hours  of  the  morning  we  discharged  the 
cattle,  when  I  was  through  with  my  job. 

I  am  not  going  to  attempt  to  describe  Dawson.  Space  forbids  ; 
and,  besides,  many  an  abler  pen  has  assumed  the  task  with  only 
a  moderate  measure  of  success.  Suffice  it  for  me  to  say  that 
Dawson  is  all  built  of  wood  ;  not  a  brick  is  to  be  seen  within  its 
confines. 

Considering  the  fact  that  ten  years  ago  there  was  not  a 
dwelling  worth}^  of  the  name  on  its  site,  its  present  size  with  all 
its  modern  appliances  ^  is  surely  a  wonderful  testimony  to  the 
power  of  gold.  Banks,  hotels,  churches  and  saloons  are  to-day 
to  be  found  along  the  wooden  side-walked  streets  of  Dawson 

'*■  Dawson  City  boasts  that  it  can  supply  the  miner  with  anything  from 
a  tenpenny  nail  to  a  60  h.p.  boiler. 

93 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

City  ;  but  iheDawson  of  to-day  i->  not  the  Da\v.-,on  of  yesterday 
— of  '97.  Its  glory  has  departed. 

The  famous  town  of  tlie  Kloudyke  lies  at  the  foot  of  the 
Dome — the  mountain  that  overlooks  Dawson.  From  the  Dome 
a  magnifieent  view  of  the  surrounding  country  is  obtained.  One 
writer  describes  it  in  these  words  :  "  Stretching  away  to  the 
north-west  could  be  traced  the  windijig  course  of  the  Yukon 
on  its  way  to  its  extreme  northern  point  at  Fort  Yukon  where 
it  ci'ONses  the  Arctic  Circle.  On  the  north  and  east  were  visible, 
ncai'ly  100  miles  away,  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  world's 
greatest  I'idge  which  sweeps  northward  from  the  plateau  of 
Mexico,  rises  in  the  heights  of  the  Rockies,  and  is  perpetuated 
in  tlie  nortliei'ii  chain  of  mountains  across  British  America  to  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  On  the  south-east  lay  the  valley  of  the  Klondyke 
and  its  tributaries — the  gi'cat  goldfield  wliich  has  lured  its  tens 
of  thousands  of  eager  and  hopeful  ai'gonauts  to  the  discovery 
of  gold;  has  cojitributed  over  100,000,000  dollars  to  the 
woi'khs  supply  of  that  precious  metal." 

The  wintci-  had  now  almost  set  in.  the  I'ivci'  at  its  banks 
ha\-i]!g  ah'cady  begun  to  freeze  up.  The  days  were  rapidly 
getting  sliortc-!'.  As  Dawson  is  so  near  to  the  .Vretic  Circle  it  is 
light  (Veil  at  midniglit  in  the  middle  of  the  summer  ;  l)ut.  on 
tlif  otlicr  Jiand.  during  the  (lc])th  of  wintc'r  tlic'  suii  makes  but 
a  A"cry  slioit  a]j])ea!anee. 

On  the  (lay  cjf  my  an•i^-a]  I  \-isited  Bonanza  Cix-c-k.  near  which 
the  lii'st  lind  of  gold  AS'as  made.  The  days.  ho^\•(W(•r.  of  a  poor 
maifs  ])r(')])o-itic)!i  in  the  ])]acer  workings  of  tlic-  fvlondyke  arc- 
a  tiling  of  the  jiast.  Jii-.t  as  on  the  Rand  tliey  have  given  place 
io  the  extensive  workings  of  the  ca})italist.  "Where  ten  years  ago 
(jiie  saw  a  eoiij)lc  of  miners  wiih  a  ])an  and  a  few  sluice  boxes, 
to-day  one  scc^  a  huge  cN ctrieal  dredgC'i'at  work  ;  the  '"  I'reezing- 
out  "'  |);(K'c^s.  iM;i(ic<a~y  bygicat  \'.'ea]ih.  has  played  its  ])ait. 

T  \vall-:i(l  along  tlif  .KN-iidyki'  Bi\-(-r  ajul  oblained  a  glini])se 
(•f  the  miiiliig  oj)t  .alien  -  that  were-  -till  at  work.  Ilc-re  and 
Iheie  1  exehaiigcd  \\'oi(k  \'.i{li  miners,  who  had  no  intc'iition  to 
■■  g(j  below.""  IjuL   with   the.    '"  grub  stake  ""  the\'  had  made  by 

94 


DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKE 

^vagc-^vOl•kinl;'  during  tJic  suinincr  \\cie  going  to  .spend  tlie 
winter  prospecting.  Pjospecting  with  the  glass  "  70°  below  " 
and  the  need  to  thaw  out  the  ground  is  perhaps  the 
hardest  test  of  endui'anee  the  woj'ld  can  tc-day  supply.  One 
miner  toid  me  that  he  ])ad  been  eight  yeais  up  in  the  north- 
land  witliout  ever  leaving  it  ;  and  fuither  was  determined  not 
to  return  to  the  States  till  he  had  struck  it  rich.  Ever 
that  obsession- — to  find  gold  !  He  said  he  now  almost  preferred 
the  grim  wildness  of  the  noi-th  to  the  soft  and  suimy  clime 
of  California,  where  was  his  home. 

On  my  return  to  Dawson  in  the  evening  I  strolled  into  the 
"31  &N"  Saloon,  where  from  the  rather  disturbed  atmosphere 
of  the  place  I  noticed  something  was  amiss.  One  man  was  just 
])icking  hi  mself  from  the  ground,  whilst  inost  of  the  attention  was 
concentrated  on  a  drunken  miner  sitting  on  the  billiard-table.  On 
inquiring  what  was  the  ti'ouble,  I  was  informed  that  the  miner 
liad  "  buffaloed  "  the  saloon — in  other  woi'ds,  he  defied  the  crowd 
or  any  of  the  bar-tenders  (the  man  whom  I  had  observed  picking 
Jiiiiiself  up  was  one  of  the  latter)  to  put  him  outside.  He  remained 

there  calling  on  any  doggoned  son  of  a  b to  put  him  out.  No 

one  accepted  th.c  invitation,  till  the  door  opened  and  a  trooper  of 
tlie  R.X.W.^r.  Police  in  liis  redcoat  stiolled  in.  Another  trooper 
C|uietly  followed.  Neither  in  any  wayapi)eai'ecl  to  notice  anything 
\vas  ])artieulai]y  wi'ong.  The  first  trooper  ..trolled  up  to  the  table 
aud.  looking  steadily  at  the  drunken  miner,  quietly  ordei'cd  him 
to  put  his  coat  on  and  get  out.  The  miner  started  to  swear  and 
bhi^ter  ;  but  at  the  repeated  ordei',  this  time  in  rather  sharper 
tones,  he  put  his  coat  on  and  walked  out  like  a  lamb.  The 
two  ti'oopcrs  follov^'ed.  They  did  not  e\-en  tiouble  to  arrest 
him,  tlie  oceun-enee  being  no  unusual  one.  This  little  incident, 
made  me  realise  what  an  inlluenee  this  small  body  of  men 
luid  gnincil  in  Miat  wild  sin-teh  (A'  coiinhy.  During  the  great 
iu-,!i  tlic  i  roopers  of  this  coij),  -one  ol  llie  linesl  lliat  ever 
I  nlod  I  lie  Iving's  (lorninion-,  -  did  l:l!(ir  ^^^)lk  in  the  icy  north 
on  Mieir  wage  of  one  ck>llar  a  day,  when  fhe  lowest  wage  for 
oalinaiy   uuskiJled  labour  was  seldom  under   twenty.   During 

y5 


A    WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

that  mad  rush  into  Klondykc  not  a  single  murder  was  com- 
mitted in  British  territory.  That  alone  speaks  volumes  for  the 
Royal  Xorth-West  Mounted  Police. 

I  was  fortimate  in  being  able  to  arrange  a  workaway's  job 
back  on  the  Whitehorse  (the  steamer  on  which  I  had  come 
doNvn  the  Yukon) — a  job  which  was  at  that  moment  a  much- 
sought-for  one,  particularly  as  this  was  the  last  steamer  to  leave 
for  the  year.  It  was  the  29th  day  of  September. 

The  following  evening  the  steamer  sailed,  packed  from  top  to 
bottom  with  its  living  freight — the  last  of  those  to  leave  the 
now  almost  empty  city  ;  the  rest,  poor  devils,  to  pass  months 
in  almost  living  darloiess  shut  up  in  the  frozen  north. ^ 

The  job  1  had  allotted  me  was  that  of  making  the  beds  for 
those  in  the  steerage,  as  well  as  to  give  a  hand  to  the  various 
wood-piles  where  the  ships  tied  up  to  take  on  a  supply  of  fuel 
— neitlier  a  very  oneious  task  !  The  iiist-named  occupation 
generally  meant  two  or  tliree  hours'  yarning  with  the  ow^ners 
of  the  beds  ;  whilst  the  latter  was  but  an  hour  or  two  of  hard 
woi'k. 

On  the  hrst  day  out,  whilst  making  myself  generally  useful 
— ^at  that  particular  moment  trying  to  make  a  refractory  stove 
burn — I  got  into  conversation  with  a  mining  engineer,  a 
Bo^^tonian,  and  during  our  short  trip  we  had  many  interesting 
chats.  I  formed  on  this  j'iver  steamer  a  friendship  which  is  as 
firm  to-day  as  then.  3Iy  Boston  friend  was  a  tactful  man,  for, 
whilst  informing  me  that  he  liad  noticed  lue  roaming  round 
Dawson,  he  mentioned  tliat  he  had  thought  that  I  was  not 
exactly  born  to  the  life  I  was  leading.  I  thanked  him  for  his 
compliment,  at  the  same  time  adding  that  I  was  glad  that 
thej'e  were  still  iioticcable  some  strains  of  respectability  in  me, 
which  Mere  certainly  not  apparent  in  my  jagged  pants,  kept 
Lip  by  a  ro])e,  and  my  lough  shirt. 

Amonj>st  tliost-  in  the  stecraij;c  was  a  coon  who  used  to  enter- 
tain  us  v.-ith  jjlaJitation  ^,(jngs — and  none:  but  a  darkie  can  sing 
them- — accompanied  on  a  violin. 

'  1  he  Vukoji  is  not  0])en  jur  navigation  till  about  the  middle  of  .May. 

90 


DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKP: 

Against  tlic  strong  euncnt  we  made  much  slower  progress 
tlian  when  going  north.  We  had  also  in  tow  a  scow— the  barge 
of  the  Yukon — which  made  our  progress  slower  still.  Indeed 
through  the  Five  Finger  Rapids  it  was  just  as  much  as  we  could 
do  to  steam  against  the  foaming  current. 

The  course  of  the  Yukon  is  very  tortuous,  winding  through 
every  variety  of  scenery  fi'om  the  rugged  gorges  of  the  Five 
Fingers  to  the  low  and  desolate  country  round  Hootalinqua. 
In  places  the  obvious  result  of  glacier  movement  was  very 
noticeable.  On  one  range  of  hills  the  tops  were  flattened  with 
surprising  regularity,  for  all  the  world  like  the  turrets  of  an  old 
castle. 

Stopping  here  and  there  at  the  many  wood-piles,  which  meant 
for  me  an  hour  or  two  of  "grafting,"  on  the  third  day  we 
reached  Tantalus,  where  a  scam  of  coal  was  being  worked.  Its 
quality  was  rather  poor.  The  nights  now  were  very  cold  and 
frosty,  though  it  was  still  warm  in  the  daytime.  Steaming 
through  the  quiet  waters  of  the  Yukon  during  the  night,  with 
the  \\'hite  i-ays  of  the  powerful  searchlight  intensifying  the  dark- 
ness of  the  silent  and  gloomy  mountains,  was  most  impressive. 
It  was  interesting,  too,  to  watch  the  pilot  flashing  the  light  along 
the  banks  till  he  picked  up  the  landmark  he  was  seeking,  his 
only  aid  for  navigation. 

After  five  days  we  reached  Whitehorse,  the  river  boat  tying 
up  at  daybi-eak  on  the  first  day  of  October. 

Having  an  hour  or  two  before  the  train  to  Skagway  left,'  I 
j-oamed  round  the  town,  \vliieh  was  in  every  way  similar  to 
Skagway,  tliough  in  a  ratlier  iuore  flourishing  condition.  Close 
to  the  town  were  the  Whitehorse  Rapids,  where  so  many  met 
their  death  in  the  early  days. 

31uch  copper  was  being  mined  round  Whitehorse,  and  an 
excellent  grade  of  ore  too.  1  shovelled  many  a  ton  of  it  on  the 
wharves  at  Skagway  and  needed  no  reminder  tnat  this  ore  \\as 
being  exported  m  ever-increasing  quantities  to  the  States,  there 

'  Being  an  ex-eniployee  of  the  railroad  1  was  granted  a  free  pass  over 
the  line,  thereby  saving  twenty  dollars — the  fare  at  twenty  cents  a  mile  ! 

G  97 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

to  be  smelted.  Many  Yankee  tourists  on  the  round  trip  to  Skag- 
way  used  to  remark  this  bright  copper  ore  ("  Peacock  "  copper) 
lying  on  the  wharves  in  heaps  ;  and  not  a  few  of  them  thought 
it  was  gold  quartz  from  the  Klondyke.  I  was  asked  more  than 
once  by  some  fair  maid:  "flight  I  take  just  one  small  piece, 
please  ?  '"  I  blandly  gave  them  all  permission.  It  wasn't  mine, 
and  besides  they  couldn't  have  taken  away  a  dollar's  ^vorth  if 
they  had  tried.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that  I  was  offered 
my  first  tip, 

I  remarked  one  young  damsel — she  was  pretty — -with  a  fragile 
pair  of  boots  on  daintily  picking  her  way  over  the  heaps  of  ore, 
selecting  the  pretty-looking  pieces  (doubtless  later  to  tell  lier 
friends  :  "  This  is  gold  quartz  from  the  Klondyke  I  ").  At  that 
particular  moment  I  was  sitting  on  my  barj-ow  a\N'aiting  my  turn 
to  get  a  load- — and  I  used  sometimes  to  miss  my  turn.  Forgetting 
that  I  was  only  a  navvy,  I  asked  the  young  gii-1  to  allow  me  to 
gather  her  one  or  two  pieces.  She  thanked  me  and  asked  me  to  do 
so.  Whilst  I  was  giving  her  a  few  specimens  a  flat -hatted,  dough- 
faced  object,  with  pants  three  to  four  feet  across  the  hips  like 
flour  sacks,  and  chiffoned  shoe-laces,^  joined  her.  On  seeing  me 
handing  the  young  girl  the  several  pieces  of  ore,  this  lop-sided 
specimen  of  humanity  described  above  pulled  out  a  dollar  and 
held  it  out  to  me.  I  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  raised  my  rather 
ragged  hat  to  his  companion,  and  walked  away  with  the  parting 
words  :  "  You'd  better  keep  your  money,  as  I  may  have  more 
than  you  !  "  He  looked  remarkably  silly,  and  the  young  girl,  I 
was  pleased  to  note,  looked  daggers  at  him.  After  all,  I  suppose 
it  was  rather  foolish  of  me — not  to  have  taken  it.  One  hard  old 
case,  who  had  witnessed  the  little  episode,  certainly  thought  so, 
for  when  I  returned  to  my  barrow  he  said  :  "  Say,  did  that  guy 
offer  you  any  money  ?  "  I  replied:  '"  Why,  yes  I  But  I  didn't 
want  liis  mojiey  !  ""  The  old  man  gazed  despairingly  at  me  fo)'  a 
]no]nent,  tJien  slowly  i-ejoined.  einphasising  evcjy  word  :  "Say, 
kid.   wlien  yoii"\'c  been  i]i  this  counti'\'  as  long  as  me.   you'll 

'   I  lie  typical  gel-up  of    ihc  modern  American  tourist — tiic  bane  of 
the  Far  Eastern  ports. 

98 


DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKE 

take  from  man,  woman  or  child  !  "  With  these  words  he  left  me, 
looking  the  picture  of  disgust. 

By  two  o'clock  we  were  on  the  summit  of  the  White  Pass, 
which  was  now  covered  with  snow.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and 
from  Lake  Bennett  we  had  come  through  a  blinding  snowstorm. 
The  Alaskan  winter  had  now  set  in  in  earnest. 

Before  entering  American  territory  all  of  us  on  the  train  were 
searched  by  troopers  of  the  R.N.W.M.  Police  to  see  whether 
we  had  any  gold-dust  secreted  on  our  persons.  The  Canadian 
Government  demands  its  royalty  on  all  the  gold  that  leaves  the 
country.  I  told  the  trooper,  who  was  wasting  his  time  in  search- 
ing me,  that  of  all  the  gold  he  found  on  my  person  he  could  have 
half.  He  was  no  richer  when  he  was  through  ! 

It  was  miserably  wet  and  windy  when  we  descended  into  the 
Skagway  valley  and  reached  the  town. 

Having  now  completed  my  trip  into  Klondyke  and  back,  my 
intention  was  to  return  to  Vancouver  as  soon  as  possible.  With 
this  object  in  view  I  haunted  the  docks  for  the  next  few  days, 
worrying  every  south-bound  ship  with  as  much  tenacity  as  I 
had  worried  them  before  to  go  north. 

I  was  fortunate  during  these  few  days  in  being  able  to  get  some 
work  again  on  the  wharf,  though  the  gangs  of  men  were  much 
reduced  in  size  since  my  departure  to  Dawson  as  the  work  for 
the  season  was  all  but  at  an  end. 

At  last  my  efforts  to  get  a  workaway's  job  were  successful.  I 
joined  the  steward's  staff  for  the  trip  of  the  Princess  May,  one 
of  the  C.P.R.  steamers  that  ply  between  Vancouver  and  Alaska. 

My  last  night  in  Skagway  I  spent  in  the  "  Packtrain  "  playing 
'"blackjack"  (a  species  of  vingt-et-un)  in  company  of  some 
miners  from  Dawson  and  others,  amongst  the  latter  being  my 
three  cattle-companions  of  the  Ilalvard,  who,  since  they  had 
come  up,  had  been  working  in  a  section  gang  on  the  railroad.  I 
was  a  few  dollars  to  the  good  by  the  time  we  "  let  up  "  in  the 
early  hours  of  the  morning. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following — the  9th — I  said 
my  last  good-bye  to  the  many  pleasant  fellows  ^vith  whom  I  had 

99 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

lived  and  worked  for  so  many  weeks.  I  felt  quite  sad  when  I  saw 
those  gloomy  peaks  that  overshadowed  Skagway  pass  out  of 
sight.  I  took  one  long  lingering  look  at  my  glacier,  which  was 
now  less  distinct,  as  its  before-dark  surroundings  were  now 
covered  with  snow.  I  realised  then  in  a  small  way  the  fascination 
this  wild  northland  had  for  those  who  breathed  its  atmosphere 
for  any  length  of  time.  I  began  to  realise  the  truth  in  the  words 
of  the  Canadian  Kipling  ^  : 

"  I  haicd  it  like  liell  for  a  season,  and 
Then  I  became  worse  than  the  worst  !  " 

It  was  dark  when  the  lights  of  Skagway  had  faded  away  in 
the  distance. 

The  steamer  on  which  I  had  arranged  to  work  my  passage 
back  to  Canada  liad  to  call  on  its  way  south  at  many  })orts  along 
the  south-east  Alaskan  and  the  British  Columbian  coasts,  thus 
giving  me  an  excellent  opportunity  of  seeing  a  little  more  of 
this  part  of  the  world. 

Our  fir.^t  stop  was  at  the  small  Indian  settlement  of  Wrangel. 
This  little  town  is  the  entrepot  for  all  goods  and  fi'cight  destined 
foj- the  placer  workings  round  the  Stikine  River.  Wrangel,  from 
a  historical  point  of  view,  is  interesting,  as  it  was  founded  as 
early  as  1834  by  the  Russians.  After  the  change  of  ownership  in 
1867  the  United  States  Government  established  tlicre  a  military 
])ost  and  the  place  for  many  years  was  kno^vn  as  Fort  Wrangel. 
To-day,  however,  the  title  of  '"  fort  "'  lias  been  dropped  and 
juueh  of  its  past  glory  has  departed.  To  tiie  sightseer,  beyond  a 
glimpse  of  the  Alaskan  Indian  at  home  and  his  totem  poles — 
his  idols — there  was  nothing  much  of  interest. 

Passing  again  tlie  beautiful  wooded  shores  of  the  mainland 
l)acked  with  their  snowy  I'anges  of  moimtains,  we  reached 
Ketchikan  early  in  the  morning  of  our  second  day.  Ketchikan 
is,  as  I  Jiave  already  mentioited,  the  custom  port  of  entry  for 
American  territory  ;  it  has  besides  a  growing  canning  trade,  the 
fisheries  off  tlic  coasts  produciiig  an  almost  ijiexhaustible  supply 

'  "  Songs  of  a  Sourdough  "  i^R.  Service;. 
100 


DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKE 

of  salmon,  halibut  and  other  lish.  The  salmon  is  the  prineipal 
fish  that  is  canned.  This  little  town  is  also  the  centre  of  a  growing 
copper  district. 

It  was  suggested  by  the  second  steward  just  befoi-e  the  boat 
sailed  that  I  should  help  to  wait  at  table  during  the  trip.  Being 
quite  determined  not  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  I  quietly  and 
tactfully  set  to  work  to  make  him  realise  how  disadvantageous 
such  a  course  would  be  to  the  passengers  and  to  the  ship  in 
general.  I  gently  hinted  that  I  would  be  quite  equal  to  tipping 
plates  of  soup  into  ladies'  laps,  as  well  as  plates  of  pie  down  their 
necks.  My  woi-ds  had  the  desired  effect  ;  and  as  there  were  two 
other  "  Avorkaways  "  on  boaixl  I  was  detailed  off  to  make  up  the 
bunks  of  the  passengers  in  tlie  steerage  and  to  clean  up  the 
lavatoiies  of  the  ship  ;  in  short,  to  do  most  of  the  dirty  work 
on  board.  In  other  words,  I  was  the  "  janitor."  The  other  two 
"  workaways  "  were  inspanned  as  assistant  waiters  and  I  wished 
them  luck  with  their  job.  I  preferred  mine  to  theirs. 

I  say  "  I  was  detailed  off "  to  these  various  duties,  but  I  do 
not  say  for  a  moment  that  I  carried  them  out  to  the  letter,  for 
when  it  came  to  dodging  bosses  and  work — well,  in  that  I  needed 
a  lot  of  excelling  !  When  the  wharf  of  Skagway  grew  every 
moment  moi-c  distant  and  I  knew  that  I  was  safe  to  go  with 
the  ship,  my  spirit  of  independence  ijiereased.  I  then  inter- 
preted the  duty  of  making  the  beds  in  the  steerage  into  that  of 
yarning  and  playing  "  blackjack  "  with  their  various  occupants, 
only  working  like  a  "  perspiring  Trojan  "  when  I  was  warned  of 
the  approach  of  the  second  steward  seeking  my  whereabouts. 
I  would  then  be  instructed  to  start  the  task  of  cleaning  up  the 
lavatories  ;  on  the  completion  of  that  task  I  would  be  sent 
off  to  shine  up  the  brasswork  on  the  upper  decks.  This  was 
where  I  scored  ;  for  I  spent  most  of  my  time,  whilst  ostensibly 
industriously  polishing  door-knobs,  in  gazing  at  the  beautiful 
scenery  we  were  passing  and  in  gossiping  with  passengers.  I 
got  so  expert  by  the  end  of  the  trip  in  gossiping  and  polishing 
brasswork  simultaneousl>^  that  I  felt  that  I  had  at  last  left  the 
ranks  of  unskilled  labour. 

lOI 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

To  my  sui-prise  1  found  nearly  all  the  occupants  of  the  "  glory 
hole  "  or.  in  other  words,  the  stewards  of  the  ship,  were  young 
Englishmen  and,  with  but  few  exceptions,  public  school  boys, 
undoubtedly  sons  of  gentlemen,  but  not  for  a  moment  would  I 
suggest  it  was  a  case  of  like  father  like  son.  Their  conversation 
was  nearly  always  on  the  subject  of  the  ti])s  the  voyage  would 
produce.  I  could  barely  conceal  my  contempt  for  them,  more 
particularly  when  I  heard  the  tenor  of  their  conversation,  such 
remarks  as  :  "  The  old  cha]i  in  No.  12  ought  to  be  worth  a 
five-dollar  bill  !"  and:  "That  old  girl  in  No.  6  I  reckon  is 
good  for  a  ten  spot  !  "  ;  and  so  on.  It  is  almost  unnecessary  to 
add  that  the  bulk  of  them  were  remittance-men. 

During  this  trip  I  kept  very  irregular  hours,  playing  "  black- 
jack "  every  night  imtil  very  late.  I  was  sometimes  out  and 
sometimes  in,  nevei',  however,  breaking  far  into  my  little  nest- 
egg.  By  the  end  of  the  trip  1  was  a  five-dollar  bill  to  the  good. 

We  reached  Port  Simpson  early  in  the  morning  of  the  11th, 
the  atmosphere  off  the  coast  being,  as  is  not  unusually  the  case, 
very  misty  and  damp.  Dixon  Entrance — tlie  international 
boundary  line  between  American  and  British  territory — faces 
this  little  port.  Port  Simpson  was  for  many  decades  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  it  still  possesses 
an  old  fort  and  trading  post.  A  rather  interesting  old  building 
stands  near  the  whaif,  which  was  erected,  so  it  is  said,  before 
even  the  arrival  of  the  Hudson  Bay  men,  which  was  as 
early  as  the  ])cginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Concerning 
this  building  one  writer  says:  "It  was  in  those  days  a  guest- 
liouse  of  the  chiefs,  and  its  supporting  logs  were  grounded  into 
the  earth  on  top  of  living  bodies.  The  tale  of  this  house,  built 
on  the  bones  of  human  saci-ilicc..  is  one  of  tlic  many  interesting 
stories  of  the  old  Indians."  Tntcresting — but  latlicr  gruesome  ! 

A  little  to  the  south  of  this  poi't  lies  its  successful  rival — ■ 
Prince  Rupert — situated  on  a  small  island  off  tlic  mainland.  We 
made  a  short  stay  here. 

Prince  Rupei't  at  the  time  of  my  visit  had  just  been  selected 
as  the  tei-mimis  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway.  It  must  be  to-day 

102 


DOWN  THE  YUKON  TO  KLONDYKE 

double  the  size  it  was  when  I  walked  through  its  one-planked 
main  street.  It  was  then  termed  "  the  town  of  the  West  in  the 
making,"  and  looked  what  Seattle  and  other  Pacific  coast  towns 
must  have  appeared  in  their  early  days.  Whether  it  will  ever 
grow  to  their  present  size  Time  alone  will  show.  The  posses- 
sion of  an  excellent  harbour  is  one  of  the  chief  reasons  for  its 
selection  as  the  site  for  the  terminus  of  the  new  steel  belt  which 
will  soon  span  the  Dominion. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  we  made  our  last 
call — at  xilert  Bay,  an  Indian  village  situated  on  the  shores 
of  a  deep  bay  in  Vancouver  Island.  Here  we  took  on  a  big  load 
of  tinned  lish  for  Vancouver,  thence  to  be  distributed  to  all 
parts  of  the  world. 

The  Indian  village  with  its  rows  of  hideous  totems  gave  me  a 
better  insight  into  the  life  and  customs  of  the  Indian  than  any 
of  the  places  at  which  we  had  touched.  The  village,  with  its 
wealth  of  totem  poles,  native  houses  and  Indian  war  canoes, 
was  full  of  points  of  interest.  The  totem  poles  are  most  hideous 
monstrosities. 

The  Indians  along  tliis  coast — the  aborigines  of  the  land- — are 
said  to  have  lived  for  centuries  as  near  to  Nature  as  it  has  been 
possible  for  them  to  do  ;  and  looking  at  them  to-day  one  is  not 
tempted  to  dispute  the  fact. 

The  following  evening  we  reached  Vancouver.  Only  three  short 
months  had  elapsed  since  my  departure  from  British  Columbia — 
but  three  months  that  had  been  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  rough 
and  rugged  life,  in  a  country  of  sublime  vastness,  of  impressive 
wildness  and  of  solemn  grandeur  :  a  country  that  leaves  an  in- 
defaceable  mark — the  mark  that  reveals  to  Youth  its  ]Manhood. 


103 


CHAPTER    VTII 

TIARD  TIDIES   OX  THE   PACIFIC   COAST 

OX  my  arrival  in  Vancouver  in  the  fall  of  the  year  I  found 
things  vci'y  dull,  the  slackness  of  trade  usually  associ- 
ated with  the  season  being  greatly  increased  by  the 
financial  panic  which  in  that  year  shook  the  great  North 
American  Continent  to  its  foundations.  Trade  seemed  utterly 
paralysed.  Everywhere  in  the  streets  of  the  town  one  only  saw 
crowds  of  unem])loyed.  To  make  matters  wor.^e  the  numbers 
were  being  swelled  daily,  not  only  by  hundreds  of  men  like 
myself  coming  down  from  Alaska,  but  by  hundreds  of  others 
coming  out  West  from  the  eastern  parts  of  Canada.  Further,  to 
put  the  finishing  touch  to  this  deplorable  state  of  affairs,  ship- 
loads of  Japanese  coolies  were  pouring  into  the  country  in  regular 
streams,  taking  what  little  work  there  was  to  be  done.  Was  it 
then  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  working  men  of  Vancouver 
rioted  and  wrecked  the  greater  part  of  the  Japanese  quarter  in 
the  town  ?  The  aftermath  of  these  riots,  wliich  occui-red  during 
the  month  of  Septembei',  took  the  sha})e  of  the  settlement  of 
compensation  claims  for  damage  inflicted  to  pro])ert\'  during 
the  I'iots.  This  was  in  course  of  progress  on  my  i-eturn.  When  I 
recalled  the  sight  I  had  witnessed,  during  July,  of  se^T'nteen 
h.undicd  Japanese  coolies  arriving  in  one  batch,  and  ^\hen  I 
was  told  that  many  fresh  batches  had  since  tlien  ari'ived  in 
Canada,  I  was  not  surprised  that  this  coupled  with  tlie  intense 
stagnation  had  rouscd  the  passions  of  the  ^^'orking  man. 

Ik-sides  white  men  out  of  \\'ork.  one  saw  lunribei's  of  ^\■hite- 
turbancd  Indians  prowling  the  streets  in  batches,  idle  and  nearly 
sta!'\'ing  :  in  fact,  many  of  them  did  die  of  starvation  and  cx- 
})Osure  dui'ing  tliat  \vi]iter.  ])es])ite  all  this  disti'css,  one  of  the 

104 


HARD  TIMES  OX  TTTE  PACTFTC  COAST 

great  railways  kept  calling  to  tliose  in  the  East :  "  Come  West !  " 
and  at  the  same  time  employed  Chinamen  on  the  line.  In  such 
times  one  feels  sympathy  with  anarchists. 

After  four  days  of  idleness  I  went  south  to  Seattle,  where  I 
joined  hundreds  of  others  in  unsuccessful  search  for  woi'k.  The 
state  of  Seattle  was  even  woi-se  than  that  of  Vancouver  ;  so  I 
I'eturned  after  a  week.  To  kill  time  I  would  stand  in  company 
with  others  and  watch  the  eastei'n  train  arrive  with  its  load  of 
expectant  humanity,  which  kept  pouring  in  in  response  to  the 
heartless  cry  "  Come  West  !  "  Yes,  some  poor  devils  came  West, 
wliilst  the  half  of  us  were  trying  to  go  East — to  go  anywhere,  in 
fact,  to  get  away  from  the  monotonous  cry  of  '"  nothing  doing." 
Only  the  railway  made  money  ! 

Whilst  I  still  had  some  dollars  left  I  did  not  worry  very  much. 
I  spent  many  hours,  and  dimes  also,  in  the  various  vaudeville 
shows  that  abounded  in  the  city,  and  they  helped  to  pass  the 
time  that  was  beginning  to  hang  heavily  on  my  hands.  I  tried  to 
get  a  job  in  my  old  cigar  stoi'c  again,  but  found  that  my  real 
estate  friend  had  already  gone  under,  an  early  victim  to  the 
depression  that  was  sweeping  over  the  land.  In  one  cigar  store  I 
was  fairly  sanguine  of  getting  a  billet.  The  owner,  after  my 
inquii'ing  for  a  job  and  explaining  to  him  that  I  had  some 
experience  in  the  town,  asked  me  to  put  up  some  pictures  in  his 
stoic  pointing  out  for  the  purpose  a  rickety  ladder  on  which  he 
himself  was  too  seared  to  ascend.  I  spent  an  hour  and  moi-e,  at 
some  risk  to  my  limljs,  in  fixing  up  his  advertisement  pictm-es 
I'ound  the  sho]) ;  Ijut  on  completion  of  that  work  I,  antici- 
pating a  job,  was  asked  whether  I  smoked  and  was  handed 
a  five-cent  cigar  !  He  was  a  Scotch  Canadian.  Is  it  necessary 
to  say  it  ? 

That  evening  I  obtained  a  job.  I  was  selected  as  a  "  super  " 
foi'  the  stage  at  one  of  the  small  theatres  in  the  town.  My  part 
was  that  of  a  factory  hand.  It  needed  no  acting ;  the  role 
came  quite  naturally  after  my  recent  months  of  roughing  it.  I 
received  per  night  for  my  talented  sei'vices  the  huge  sum  of 
twenty-five  cents  (one  shilling),  which  just  paid  for  my  evening 

105 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

meal.  However,  I  got  quite  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  it.  The  fu'st  night 
I  appeared  I  remarked  that  the  leading  lady  winked  at  me  whilst 
she  was  aeting  the  part  of  Crlory  in  The  Christian.  But  the 
thought  that  I  had  made  a  conquest  was  sjjeedily  dispelled  by 
the  realisation  that  the  wink  only  indicated  that  I  was  to  shout 
at  that  particular  moment.  Oh,  the  disillusion  ! 

Some  of  the  incidents  behind  the  scenes  wei'c  also  very  amus- 
ing. The  actor  who  took  the  part  of  the  Bishop  in  the  play, 
liaving  ended  his  appearance  on  the  stage  by  blessing  John 
Storm,  remarked  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  and  earshot  of 
the  audience :  "  Lord,  it  is  as  hot  as  hell  on  there  !  "  This  httle 
side-play  was,  perhaps,  only  equalled  by  Glory.  She  had  called 
forth  great  applause  by  her  acting  of  a  ratln- ■  touching  scene, 
ending:  "'  Kiss  me,  John  !  "  The  moment  the  curtain  dropped, 
and  the  touchijig  request  barely  out  of  her  pietty  mouth,  slie 
called  for  the  stage  managci'  and  swoi-e  at  him  about  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  stage  as  daintily,  and  yet  as  fluently,  as  only  an 
accomplished  actress  could.  The  witnessing  of  these  and  other 
incidents,  coupled  with  the  receipt  of  "two  bits,"  fully  repaid 
me,  I  felt,  foj'  placing  my  histrionic  talents  at  the  disposal  of 
the  management.  TJie  following  evening  I  was  offered  a  job  of 
usher  in  the  pit  at  the  munificciit  wage  of  fifty  cents  a  night. 
I  could  iiever  gather  whether  tlii'^  offer  was  a  compliment  or 
otherwise.  It  wa.^  either  an  appreciation  of  my  suave  demeanour 
and  air  distingue  ov  a  decided  reflection  on  my  histrionic  talents 
before  referred  to.     I  refused  tlie  billet. 

Dui'ing  these  days  I  used  to  haunt  the  docks,  as  the  position 
was  fast  becoming  serious  enough  to  compel  me  to  contemplate 
a  voyage  to  anywluTe.  One  du}'  I  nearly  got  a  jol)  as  tiiird 
office!'  on  tlie  Gcorilia,  a  steamei'  tliat  ran  regularly  between 
Canada  and  Mexico.  I  was  ])roiniscd  the  ])Osition  failing  the 
unlikeh'  alternati\'e  that  the  ship  might  secui'c  a  real  ollicer  with 
a  cei'tificate.  Tliis  pi'omi>e  was  the  I'esult  oi'  a  talk  with  the 
captain,  who.  for  a  master  on  a  ship,  seemed  a  most  credulous 
man  :  possibly  he  only  appeared  to  me  so.  However,  on  the 
mori'ow   I   Icarnl   that  the  unlikely  alternative  had  turned  uj) 

loO 


HARD  TIMES  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 

in  the  shape  of  a  dismissed  Empress  officer ;  so  my  chance  of 
beaching  tlie  Georgia  vanished. 

I  also  nearly  went  to  Boston  during  these  hard  times,  in 
response  to  an  invitation  from  my  Alaskan  friend.  I  endeavoured 
to  obtain  the  opportunity  of  accompanying  a  party  of  China- 
men who  were  being  sent  overland  "  in  bond."  This  would 
have  meant  a  free  passage  to  the  East  and  a  possible  five-dollar 
bill.  I  was  unsuccessful,  being  fourth  on  the  list,  which,  as  the 
railroad  cleik  showed  me,  contained  over  one  thousand  names  ! 
That  alone  was  a  sign  of  the  times.  This  railroad  clerk  was 
quite  a  good  fellow  ;  for  he  told  me  that  if  I  could  disguise  myself 
as  a  parson — i.e.  don  a  dark  suit  and  turn  my  collar  round — he 
would  issue  me  a  padre's  ticket,  which  meant  a  considerable 
reduction  on  the  usual  fare.  However,  though  I  flattered  myself 
I  could  look  like  a  parson,  I  could  not  raise  half  the  necessary 
cash  to  buy  the  ticket,  even  at  the  much -reduced  figure.  Hence, 
my  efforts  to  go  east,  either  as  a  guard  of  Chinamen  or  as  a  sky- 
pilot,  were  of  no  avail.  I  couldn't  go  east,  I  couldn't  go  north, 
I  tried  hard  to  go  west,  even  to  tlie  extent  of  making  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  stowaway  on  one  of  the  Empress 
steamers  bound  for  Japan.  So  I  had  to  go  south. 

On  Thanksgiving  Day — 31st  October — I  obtained  anothci- 
job — to  count  and  weigh  frozen  carcasses  of  sheep.  This  brought 
in  a  few  dollars  and  kept  the  wolf  from  the  door  for  a  few  days 
inore. 

Tliat  approaching  starvation  quickens  the  wits  is,  I  think,  a 
recognised  fact  :  judging,  therefore,  by  the  following  brilliant 
scheme  evolved  by  three  kindred  spirits  and  myself,  we  must  all 
indeed  have  been  very  nea;-  starvation  point.  Two  men,  whom  avc 
I'an  across  in — ^vc'll  say  in  the  public  library — had  just  dis- 
covered in  Vancouver  Islajid  the  bones  of  a  huge  mastodon — a 
iclie  of  preliisto)-ie  ages,  possibly  n  mammoth  of  the  Glacial 
Period.  They  had  brought  the  bones  o\'er  from  the  island,  and 
having  put  them  together  were  exhibiting  the  skeleton  in  a 
liall.  charging  a  small  sum  for  admittance.  Well,  with  these 
two  men  The  Hard  Up  Company  [i.e.  we  four)  signed  a  contract 

107 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

that  the  company  would  pay  within  seven  days  the  sum  of  a 
thousand  dollars  for  a  six  months'  option  on  the  brute,  the  said 
companj^'s  idea  being  to  travel  with  their  skeleton  through  the 
States  and  exliibit  it  thei'e  for  a  eonsideration.  Seeing  that  the 
funds  at  the  company's  disposal  (hd  not  exceed  twenty  dollars, 
a  fact  of  which  the  prospective  vendors  wei'C  I'ortimately  not 
aware,  the  })i'ospccts  of  the  company  wci'c  not  exactly  of  the 
bi'ightest.  In  fact,  the  managing  director,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
was  discovered  two  days  before  the  period  of  seven  days  had 
elapsed  offering  his  directorate  and  all  his  interest  in  the  Hard 
Up  Company  foi-  sale,  a  hint  being  thi'own  out  that  a  five-dollar 
bill  would  effect  the  transaction.  The  sale,  however,  did  not 
come  off,  there  being  no  buyers.  Furthermore  the  sale  of  the 
mastodon  never  came  off,  there  being  no  cash.  On  this  the 
company  went  into  liquidation  and  i-emaincd  there.  The 
(hreetoi's  all  scattci'cd  far  and  wide,  the  managing  director 
going  over  to  Victoria  to  try  to  get  a  job. 

The  siglit  of  Victoria  was  very  refreshing  after  the  weeks  I  had 
spent  in  the  hybrid  town  of  Vancouver.  I  would  like  to  use  a 
stronger  word  than  hybrid,  but  on  eonsideration  I  refrain.  The 
scenei'y  between  Vancouver  and  Victoria  was  vci'y  pretty,  and 
one  was  almost  within  the  harboui-  of  Victoria,  which  is  screened 
from  view  by  a  rocky  promontory,  before  being  nware  of  it. 
I  almost  felt  like  being  back  in  England  again,  so  homelike  is  the 
capital  of  British  Columbia.  What  was  particulaily  attractive 
was  the  presence  of  fences  enclosing  the  gaidens  of  the  pictur- 
esque dwellings — a  thing  one  never  sees  in  any  other  town  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  The  fence  is  a  typiccally  English  institution — 
exclusive,  insular,  and  conservative. 

I  returned  to  Vancouver  towards  the  end  of  November, 
practically  "  broke."  but  soon  gave  the  city  best  and  left  south 
fo!'  Seattle.  ]My  diary  for  that  day  (23i-d  November  '07)  read  : 
"  Left  Vancouver  (I  hope  for  evei'  !)  for  Seattle.'"  \'aneouver 
and  I  never  seemed  to  agree. 

Six  days  later,  Seattle  being  if  anything  in  a  woi^e  condition 
than  the  Canadian  town,  I  secui'cd  with  my  last  few  dollars  a 

io8 


\";i  i>>K[\.   1!.C 


\  AM   <  'I    \  IK,      1!,( 


HARD  TIMES  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 

passage  on  a  lumber  boat  bound  for  'Frisco.  Many  others,  out 
of  work  like  myself,  were  also  bound  for  that  city,  lying  rumours 
having  reached  us  that  things  were  not  so  depressed  in  California 
as  in  the  north. 

A  heavy  swell  made  our  vessel,  ^\'hich  had  a  big  deck  cargo  of 
timber,  roll  nearly  on  to  her  beam  ends.  The  greater  part  of  the 
men  on  board — there  was  not  a  single  woman — spent  their  time, 
when  not  feeding  the  fishes,  in  playing  cards  and  drinking  rye 
whisky,  which  were  about  the  only  things  with  which  to  occupy 
time.  We  literally  rolled  down  to  San  Francisco,  berthing  there 
late  in  the  evening  of  the  3rd  December  after  four  days  at  sea. 

Things  in  'Frisco  were  very  bad ;  even  worse  than  up  north. 
Work  was  unobtainable.  The  city  was  in  the  throes  of  a  financial 
])anic.  Men  who  had  hundreds  of  dollars  to  their  credit  in  the 
banks  were  unable  to  draw  a  cent,  clearing-house  certificates 
realisable  in  the  April  following  being  handed  them  instead. 
Well-to-do  men  were  vainly  trying  to  borrow  a  ten-dollar  bill 
with  which  to  buy  their  Christmas  dinnei'. 

My  plight  was  not  exactly  a  happy  one.  I  had  had  in  my 
mind  the  idea  of  spending  the  winter  on  the  fruit  ranch  in 
Hcaldsburg,  which  I  had  visited  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  ; 
but  on  meeting  my  friend  I  found  that  he  was  as  hard  pressed 
as  I  and  was  at  that  moment  goi]ig  up  to  the  ranch  himself. 
He  was  out  of  a  job,  his  saloon  having  failed.  So  here  was  I  with 
just  two  dollars  in  my  pocket ;  no  woi'k,  not  the  slightest  chance 
of  getting  any  ;  and  with  eveiy  probability  of  being  stranded 
in  'Frisco  which  was  hardly  the  town  I  should  have  selected 
for  the  purpose.  But  my  lucky  star  did  not  fail  me.  My  good 
Japanese  friends,  who  during  these  years  have  ever  been  so 
ready  to  lend  me  a  helping  hand,  came  to  my  aid.  Through  their 
inlluciicc  I  was  able  to  arrange  to  work  my  passage  to  Japan  in 
an  old  tramp.  The  steamer,  at  the  moment  of  my  arrival,  Avas 
just  completing  discharge  of  a  cargo  of  Japanese  coal  prior  to 
loading  in  the  Puget  Sound  ports  for  Vladivostock.  On  her 
arrival  in  Japan  from  Vladivostock  she  was  to  be  sold  to  a 
Japanese  shipowner. 

109 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

I  proceeded  to  the  docks,  passing  alone  along  the  wharves^ — a 
thing  which  no  one  in  his  right  senses  would  do  at  night- 
time— and  found  the  old  steamer  that  was  to  be  my  home  for  a 
few  weeks.  In  appearance  she  was  just  an  ordinary  cargo  boat ; 
but  she  was  about  as  dilapidated  an  old  tramp  as  one  could 
have  wished  to  sec,  lier  rusted  sides  and  ancient  paintwork  fully 
testifying  to  lier  age  of  twenty-five  years.  Her  design  was  old- 
fashioned,  most  of  her  accommodation  being  aft  in  the  poop, 
wliicli  was  connected  to  the  bridge  deck  by  a  running  bridge  over 
the  aft'  well  deck.  Her  registered  tonnage  was  two  thousand 
seven  lumdred  toils.  I  am  not  gi\'ing  any  unnecessary  detail 
j'egarding  the  Santolo^  for  to  follow  all  the  old  ship's  adventures 
it  is  necessary  lo  have  a  little  idea  of  what  she  was  like.  The 
man-in-the-stieet  knows  very  little  about  tlie  deep-sea  tramp 
that  supplies  him  with  liis  daily  requii'cments.  his  slight  laiow- 
ledge  of  the  mercantile  marine  being  limited  to  a  su])erficial 
acquaintance  with  palatial  mail  steamers. 

The  Santolo  flew  tlie  German  flag,  being  captained  and 
officered  by  Teutons  :  licr  crew  was  Chinese.  I  said  officered  by 
Teutons  ;  that  at  the  time  of  my  joining  lier  was  hardly  correct. 
Her  deck  officers  then  consisted  of  the  captain,  a  young  man  of 
twenty-six  though  none  the  worse  for  that,  and  the  chief  officer, 
an  even  younger  man.  The  engine  staff  was  equally  deticient  in 
officers.  The  "chief  "  was  only  possessed  of  a  second's  "  ticket," 
])esides  being  hopelessly  addicted  to  drink,  and  a  poor  engineer 
to  boot.  The  second  engineer,  the  only  other  oflieer  the  engiiie- 
joom  then  ])0>se.ssed,  was,  however,  quite  a  diffei'ent  type  of 
man  ;  and  it  was  solely  due  to  him  that  the  engines  were  in  a 
passable  condition. 

My  ari'JN'al  was  somcwliat  ()p])0]'tune,  the  shi])  iK'ing  so  short 
of  ollieer>.  That  same  e\eiiing — the  (ith  Dectinber — I  trans- 
feiTcd  (i]i  board  all  the  baggage  whieli  I  had  left  in  the  town  ; 
and  the  iollowjjig  morning  flic  .^fcamer,  iiow  Ijeing'  emjjty.  left 
the  (locks  and  anclioicd  in  the  bay.  i)ui'ing  the  ])]Ocess  of  mi- 
jiKjfjriiig  the;  ship  1  was  jeiegated  to  the  poop  to  "stand  by" 
'  Jo]"  obvious  reasons  this  is  not  the  correct  name- 
IIO 


HARD  TllVffiS  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 

there  ;  the  fact  of  my  being  told  off  to  act  as  second  mate  made 
me  not  a  httle  pleased  with  myself.  Fortmiately  "  No.  1  "  was 
an  able  seaman,  so  my  part  of  the  work  went  off  without  a 
liitch.  My  experience  on  the  Strathyre  also  stood  me  in  good 
stead. 

When  out  in  the  bay  the  ship  had  to  be  fumigated,  this  pre- 
caution being  enforced  to  prevent  the  spread  of  bubonic  plague  ; 
a  further  regulation  was  also  in  force  that  every  ship  moored 
to  the  wharf  must  have  "  rat-shields  "  attached  to  their  moor- 
ing lines  to  prevent  any  rodents  leaving  or  getting  on  the  ship; 
The  operation  of  fumigating  the  ship  was   decidedly  un- 
pleasant. All  parts  of  the  steamer- — cabins,  holds,  pantries — 
were  tightly  closed,  after  large  pots  of  burning  sulphur  had 
been  placed  inside.  For  a  period  of  seven  hours  all  these  parts 
had  to  remain  shut,  under  a  heavy  penalty.  More  than  one 
vessel,  I  was  told,  had  been  heavily  fined  for  prematurely  open- 
ing up  ;  and  rumour  added  that  the  port  authorities  derived 
quite  a  profitable  income  out  of  these  fmes,  adding  yet  further 
that  the  officials  went  out  of  their  way  not  to  impress  upon  the 
officers  of  the  various  steamers  the  importance  of  complying 
with  that  regulation.  I  myself  observed  more  than  once  a  spy- 
glass  being  brought   to  bear   on   us,  some   official  doubtless 
hoping  against  hope  that  we  should  open  up  the  ship  before  the 
stipulated  time.  However,  we  were  not  caught  napping  and 
waited  the  arrival  of  the  rather  sulky  official,  who  instructed 
us  to  open  up  the  ship.  During  the  period  of  fumigation  I  had 
been  allotted  the  duty  of  guarding  the  ship's  stores  and  pro- 
visions, for  with  a  Chinese  crew  on  board  nothing  was  safe  from 
theft.  Some  time  afterfumigation  the  unpleasant  taint  of  sulphur 
still  lingered  about  the  ship  causing  an  irritable  sensation  in 
the  throat  ;  and  it  ^vas  not  till  we  had  been  at  sea  a  couple  of 
days  that  the  steamer  was  clear  of  the  odour. 

We  sailed  from  'Frisco  on  the  evening  of  the  7tli,  after 
having  signed  on  aiiother  deck  officer  and  two  engineers.  The 
former  was,  like  myself,  without  any  certificate,  but  was  on  the 
other  hand  a  very  capable  and  experienced  sailor  having  been 

III 


A   AVAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

bo'sun  on  many  Boston  trawlers.  For  some  years,  however,  he 
had  been  a  butcher  in  the  States.  The  two  engineei's  we  shipped 
were  both  of  the  "  beachcomber  "  type  ;  one,  without  a  certifi- 
cate and  with  no  more  than  tlie  experience  of  a  fireman,  was  the 
better  man  of  the  two.  He  joined  the  sJiip  as  fourth  engineer, 
the  other  being  in  possession  of  a  junior  certificate.  We  were  not 
exactly  what  would  be  termed  a  liighly  efficient  crew,  for,  apart 
from  the  officers,  our  Orientals  were  about  as  bad  a  bunch  of 
Chinks  as  could  be  sci-apcd  out  of  the  dives  of  Hong-Kong. 

Thus  manned,  the  Santolo  proceeded  up  the  coast  to  Paget 
Sound,  where  we  were  to  load  for  the  East.  Being  in  ballast  we 
made  a  quick  passage  and  by  noon  of  the  10th  we  anchored  off 
Port  Townscnd.  Here  we  started  to  load  our  cargo.  As  part  of 
my  duties  as  junior  officer  I  had  to  take  a  twelve-hour  anchor 
watch  during  the  night  in  all  these  Pacific  coast  ports;  Apart 
from  ordinary  navigation  reasojis,  it  was  more  than  essential 
that  an.  officer  should  be  on  watch  dm-ing  the  night,  as  the 
steamer  was  liable  to  a  fine  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  every 
one  of  the  Chinese  c]'ew  that  absconded  from  the  ship,  unless  all 
reasonable  preeautioiis  had  been  taken  by  the  master  ;  and  the 
fact  of  an  officer  being  on  watch  could  save  the  situation.  It 
was  a  long  and  tedious  watch — from  six  o'clock  in  the  evening 
till  six  in  the  morning — and  seemed  more  wearisome  than  a 
watch  at  sea.  Tlie  greatest  hardsliip  was  to  keep  awake. 

P;irt  of  our  cargo  we  loaded  at  Tacoma  and  part  in  Seattle. 
The  bulk  cf  it  consisted  of  flom-  from  the  Tacoma  mills,  and  also 
a  lai'gc  consignment  of  fresh  fruit.  We  also  took  in  Tacoma  a 
hundi'cd  Ions  of  coal,  just  sufficieiit  to  take  us  u])  to  Vancouver 
Island  wlicj'c  we  wcve  to  coal  foi-  the  voyage,  as  Tacoma  coal 
is  of  poor  qualit\',  with  too  much  dust  and  too  little  lump.  We 
had  to  move  the  shi])  from  bcrtli  to  berth  many  times  whilst 
taking  in  cargo,  and  in  all  cases  this  had  to  bc^  done  by  hauling 
on  our  lines,  the  ship  not  being  under  steam.  On  moi'C  than  one 
occasion  1  liad  to  "  stand  by  "  on  the  poo]),  and  judging  fj'oni 
the  fact  that  I  usually  got  a  drink  after  the  operation  was  over 
1  concluded  that  I  managed  to  carry  out  the  orders  from  the 

112 


HARD  TIMES  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST 

bridge  fairly  satisfactorily.  The  work  was  always  full  of  interest 
to  me,  ton  times  more  so  than  picking  strawberries  by  Hood 
River  or  laying  "  side-walks  "  in  Vancouver. 

On  the  evening  of  the  20th  we  steamed  north  for  Vancouver 
Island  very  deep  in  draught.  We  reached  Ladysmith  early  the 
following  morning  and  started  to  coal.  We  were  ready  for  sea 
by  ten  o'clock  the  next  day.  During  the  night  we  experienced 
some  extremely  violent  squalls — a  foretaste  of  the  weather  that 
awaited  us — and  more  than  once  during  the  night  I  had  to 
slack  the  ship's  lines  to  prevent  them  carrying  away.  At  eleven- 
fifteen  "full  speed  "  was  rung  down  to  the  engine-room,  and  the 
old  Santolo  began  her  eventful  and  perilous  voyage  on  the  22nd 
of  December  1907. 


113 


CHAPTER    IX 

A    STORMY    VOYAGE    ACROSS    Till".    PACIFIC 

THE  .sy^telll  of  ^vatchc^  kept  on  the  Santolo  was  that 
they  ^vel•e  sliared  by  two  ofiiccj's  only ;  not  by  three, 
as  is  more  usually  the  ease,  when  the  an-angenient  is 
four  hours  '"  on  "  and  eii^ht  hours  "  off."  The  watches  on 
board  weie  scj  ari-anged  that  in  twenty-four  hours  one  officer 
watched  for  eleven  and  the  other  for  thirteen  hours  ;  on  the 
next  day  hour>  were  I'cverscd.  Sometimes,  when  there  are  but 
two  officci's.  the  watches  aie  shared  equally — foui'  houis  '"on" 
and  four  hours  "  off  "  ;  })ut  the  foi  niei'  system  is  often  picferred 
as  it  permits  the  oflicci's  to  get  ]no)'e  tlian  foiu'  consecutive 
hours'  sleep. 

On  OLU-  departure  from  Ladysmith  the  ca}:)tain  told  me  that 
I  was  to  share  the  ■watch  with  the  sccoiul  oflicei',  a])parently 
working  on  the  ])i'inei|)le  that  tA\(j  Jion-certilicated  nun  on 
^vatch  would  be  about  equal  to  one  eertilicated  oflicci.  I  was, 
consequently,  on  watch  with  the  second  oflicci'  fioji!  seven 
o'clock  that  cveniiig  till  midnight,  when  the  cliicf  oflicc''  relieved 
Us  till  foui"  o'clock  in  tlic  morning.  Eiom  foui-  a.m.  till  eight 
o'cl(jck  was  our  next  watch. 

At  midnight  we  wei'c  al)cam  ol'  {';\\)v  Mattery,  steering  a  wesl- 
south-M'c-t  cour--e.  On  lea\'ing  the  bridge  a!  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  a.  distijict  change  in  ilie  weatlici'  was  noLiceal>le,  the 
sky  having  become  oxcicast  and  a  strong  wcstci'ly  wiiid  having 
spj'ung  u]).  A  fast-falling  glass  fu.ther  drnoted  a  change  and 
warned  us  of  an  a])pi()aching  storm. 

^Vfter  breaklasl  I  turned  in  till  noon.  Though  expecting  some 
bad  weather  I  was  smpriscd  when  going  (at  watc-h  again  to  lind 
([uite  a  strong  gale  blowing  :    the  unex])eeted  fojce  of  the  wiiid 

ii-l 


A   STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC 

nearly  took  me  off  my  feet.  The  captain  was  on  the  bridge  when 
I  went  up.  He  looked  anxious.  I  was  hardly  surprised,  for  I 
knew  that  we  had  all  our  coal  -  bunkers  in  the  alleyways 
unbattencd  down,  being  unable  to  attend  to  them  till  the 
coal  had  settled. 

The  ship  was  already  making  bad  weather,  being  very  heavily 
laden.  Shortly  after  two  o'clock  "  half -speed  "  was  rung  down 
to  the  engine-room  as  the  seas  were  getting  too  high.  The  glass 
kept  steadily  falling  and  hourly  the  wind  grew  stronger.  By 
"  six  bells  "  in  the  aftci-noon  watch  the  gale  had  increased 
to  a  hurricane.  So  terrific  was  the  force  of  the  wind  that 
the  seas  were  almost  beaten  down  flat,  and  only  one  white 
mass  of  foam  met  our  gaze.  It  was  nearly  impossible  to  see 
beyond  the  bows  of  the  steamer  so  blinded  were  we  on  the 
bridge  by  the  driving  rain  and  spray.  The  hurricane  increased 
in  force  till  it  I'cached  its  height  late  in  the  afternoon.  Its 
fury  then  was  beyond  description,  the  force  of  the  wind 
incalculable. 

Rather  foolishly  the  captain  had  delayed  heaving  to,  and  the 
heavily  laden  tramp  was  now  labouring  badly  in  the  seas.  To 
heave  to  at  once  was  imperative.  Shortly  before  four  o'clock  this 
was  done,  though  not  before  some  big  seas  had  swept  us  fore  and 
aft  carrying  away  numerous  spars  and  stanchions.  One  heavy 
sea  struck  us  on  the  port-side ;  it  broke  clear  over  the  ship, 
smashing  the  engine-room  skylights  and  pouring  a  ton  of  water 
or  more  dowii  on  to  the  engines  below.  A  quartermaster  was  sent 
from  the  bridge  to  make  fast  some  canvas  over  the  part  wliere 
the  skylight  had  carried  away.  Whilst  thus  occupied  the  first  of 
the  long  list  of  accidents  and  troubles  that  befell  us  on  that 
eventful  voyage  occurred.  A  big  sea  struck  the  ship  ;  there  was 
a  lurch;  a  foothold  was  lost — and  all  was  over.  Carried  by  the 
almost  irresistible  f<Hce  of  the  wind  the  (piartcrmastei-  Avas 
s\v(  pt  o\  ei'board.  A  lifebuoy  was  thrown  over  to  him  ;  of  no  avail 
— the  poor  wretch  drowned  before  our  eyes  !  To  attempt  to 
launch  a  boat  in  such  seas  was  madness.  Even  if  we  had  been 
successful  in  doing  so  no  boat  could  have  lived  for  a  minute  in 


A   ^VANDERER'S  TRAIL 

such  a  turmoil  of  raging  waters.  Witli  a  muttered  prayer  we 
turned  and  faced  tiie  bows  again. 

Though  tlie  dec})ly-laden  freighter  was  Jiovc  to  we  were 
continually  shipping  heavy  seas  over  our  bows,  to  such  an 
extent  that  sailors  were  sent  for'd  to  pour  oil  through  the 
ports  of  the  fo'c'sle  with  the  ol)ject  of  In-eaking  the  force  of  the 
waves.  The  oil  had  but  little  effect. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  second  accident 
occurred ;  one  that  came  very  near  to  finishing  the  old 
Smitolo  then  and  there.  Our  steering  gear  carried  auay !  A 
clatter  of  heavy  chains  amidships,  the  steamer  falling  off  her 
course — ^told  the  talc  only  too  well.  We  were  now  in  about  as 
helpless  and  hapless  a  position  as  we  could  possibly  be.  And 
night  was  fast  approaching.  Tremendous  seas  bi'oke  over  the 
helpless  tramp,  as  she  lay  wallowing  in  the  trough  of  the  water. 
She  rolled  nearly  to  her  beam  ends.  Our  hand-steering  gear  was 
useless,  smashed  by  a  big  sea,  though  I  wouldn't  be  sure  that 
it  was  in  working  condition  on  our  depaiture. 

With  but  little  effort  I  recall  to-day  the  pictiire  of  that  vast 
expanse  of  tumbling  and  raging  seas  on  wliich  the  luckless  vessel 
tossed,  under  dark  and  gloomy  storm-clouds  that  scurried  over 
the  lieavcns.  I  can  liear  again  the  dismal  sound  of  the  abating 
storm  whistling  and  moaning  through  the  swaying  ma.sts.  And 
I  can  see  again  the  fast-disa])pearing  daylight  ushcj'ing  in  tliat 
stormy  night,  through  which  we  drifted,  never  knowing  but 
that  the  next  moment  might  be  our  last.  Such  nights  need  no 
diai-y  to  recall  them  ;  the  mind  bcai's  faithful  j-eeoid. 

Going  aft  we  found  one  of  the  steel  connecting  rods  of  the 
steei'ing  gear  had  paited,  unequal  to  the  ceaseless  strain  of  the 
heavy  seas  running.  The  rudder,  now  uncontrolled,  was  being 
beaten  to  and  fro  by  the  angry  seas  and  we  feared  that  at  any 
moment  we  might  lo^e  it.  The  necessity  to  secure  the  quadrant 
to  ^\•hieh  the  rudder  was  attached  was  at  once  apjxirent,  for  we 
knew  that  if  we  lost  our  rudder  the  ship  was  indeed  doomed. 

As  thougli  the  danger  envelo])ing  us  was  not  of  sufficient 
magiutude,   the   Chinese   crew,    panic-striclvcn   by  the  serious 

ii6 


A   STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC 

position  of  the  ship  and  demoralised  by  tlie  loss  of  the  sailor  who 
had  gone  overboard,  deserted  their  posts  and  remained  in  the 
fo'c'sle  awaiting  the  end  with  true  Oriental  fatalism.  Threats 
and  remonstrances  were  of  no  avail.  To  a  man  they  i-efused  to 
go  on  deck.  Instead,  they  burnt  joss  to  their  gods  and  remained 
sullen  and  silent. 

Hence,  there  remained  but  the  four  of  us  deck  officers  to 
start  in  the  dim  light  of  a  flickering  lantern  the  almost  hopeless 
task  of  lashing  the  rudder.  Large  six-and-a-half-inch  hemp 
hawsers  snapped  like  twine  under  the  tremendous  strain  of  the 
seas.  After  three  unsuccessful  attempts  we  were  compelled  to 
leave  the  poop  for  a  time  to  turn  our  attention  to  an  even 
greater  danger  that  threatened  the  safety  of  the  ship — our 
unbattened  coal-hatches,  through  which  water  was  fast  pouring. 
The  ship,  in  fact,  was  slowly  filling. 

The  task  of  shovelling  the  loose  coal  from  off  the  hatches  w^as 
a  heart-rending  one,  as  every  lurch  of  the  distressed  steamer 
undid  the  work  just  done.  Working  feverishly,  w'ith  shovels  and 
with  our  hands,  we  at  last  were  able  to  get  the  hatch  covers  on, 
despite  the  constant  shifting  of  the  loose  coal  et  every  roll  of 
the  ship.  This  task  completed,  we  once  again  returned  to  the 
poop  to  try  to  lash  the  rudder-quadrant.  Realising  that  hemp 
ropes  were  unable  to  stand  the  strain  we  thought  of  a  heavy 
steel  hawser.  This  was  stored  in  the  fo'c'sle.  The  ship,  lying  in 
the  trough  of  the  seas,  was  now  rolling  nearly  on  to  her  beam 
ends.  To  keep  a  footing  on  the  sloping  sea-swept  decks  was  an 
almost  impossible  feat.  So  the  task  of  bringing  that  steel  hawser 
through  the  ship,  dodging  tlie  heavy  seas  that  continually  broke 
over  us,  hanging  on  to  life-lines,  clutching,  in  short,  to  anything 
on  which  one  could  get  a  hold,  whilst  sea  after  sea  swept  us  clean, 
was  about  the  hardest  I  can  recall.  But  our  efforts  with  the 
hawser  were  successful.  By  means  of  it  we  at  last  securely  lashed 
the  quadrant  to  the  "  bits,"  thereby  I'cndering  tlic  rudder 
immovable.  When  divers  examined  the  ship  ot  Honolulu,  they 
found  one  of  tlie  sockets  of  the  rudder  all  but  broken  off  ;  it  was 
not  lashed  a  moment  too  soon. 

117 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

This  urgent  work  finished  we  lelt  entitled  to  relax  our  exer- 
tions as  the  immediate  danger  to  the  ship  Avas  averted.  It 
was  then  about  two  o'eloek  in  the  morning.  Tlie  night  was  in- 
tensely dark.  Angi'V  ^toI■m-elouds  seuri'ied  over  the  leaden  skies. 
The  wind  moaned  and  howled  thronglitlie  masts  of  the  labouring 
steamer.  Kvei'V  now  and  then  a  faint  gleam  of  the  moon  vc- 
vealed  to  oui-  eyes  the  wide  expanse  of  foam-eovered  ^eas, 
each  thi'eatening  to  engulf  us  as  we  drifted  helpless.  It  was  a 
cheerless  scene. 

Our  decks  ])y  now  were  littered  with  wreckage.  Two  of  the 
stcamei-''s  boats  lay  in  matchwood.  One  of  them  had  been  lifted 
clear  out  of  its  "  chocks  "  and  had  been  hurled  on  to  the  M'heel- 
house,  where  it  lay  in  fi'agments.  The  iron  coverings  of  all  the 
winch-pipes  were  lying  in  the  scuppers,  having  been  ripped  f  I'om 
their  fastcTiings  luidei'  the  onslaught  of  the  seas  that  had  swept 
the  decks.  Broken  spars,  stanchions  and  ])ieces  of  woodwork  lay 
strewn  everywhere.  In  the  alleyways  a  foot  of  coal-blackened 
water  washed  and  hissed  over  the  hot  steam-pipes  lying  there. 
In  my  cabin  amidships  things  were  even  wor-.e.  Over  a  foot  of 
water  washed  in  and  out  ovei'  the  ^ill  into  the  alleyway  with 
every  roll  of  tlic  slii]).  My  trunk  had  Ijcen  washed  out  of  the 
lower  bunk  and  was  floating  I  Slcc]:)  thei-e  ^vas  impossible  ! 
The  wash  of  the  water  to  and  fro  was  itself  like  a  miniature 
storm  ! 

]3elow  decks  things  we"e  just  as  l)ad.  The  engine-i'oom  was  in 
a  dcploi'able  con(htion.  As  the  Chinese  iii'einen  and  wipers  had 
all  desei'ted  their  posts,  thei'c  reDiained  only  the  few  white  men 
to  cope  with  the  }KM'ilc)u-^  ])Osition  there.  The  ciigine-i'oom  and 
stokehold  were  ilooded.  K\"(Ty  sea  the  steamer  shj|)ped  ponied 
tons  of  watci'  1)elow  thi'ough  the  })rok<n  sk\'!ights  and  the  ()])vn 
grating  I'or'd  of  the  i'lmnel.  'J'he  lattci'  was  oui'  only  exit  from 
the  amidshi])  fpiartei's.  as  both  ends  of  liie  alh  yway  had  ]>een 
Ijattc-ned  down.  T(.)  ])''e\ent  an  (■x])losi<)n  the  iiix-.  wc-re  dra\\'n. 
E\'c-n  the  [)hites  of  the  stokeliojd  were  wa->h((l  up  by  the  quairtit\' 
of  water  shipped  and  mo\'ed  io  and  fio  with  e\'ery  lurch  of  the 
vessel.  The  bilges  were  full  ;    and  to  make  matters  worse  the 

ii8 


A   STORMY   VOYAGE   ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC 

piiin])s  on  exainiiiatioi)  were  found  to  be  useless,  being  elioked 
by  tlie  aniouni  of  eoal  dust  that  had  been  washed  down 
through  the  bunkers.  This  tlien  was  the  position- — as  well  as  my 
pen  ean  desciibe  it — in  whieh  we  found  ourselves  when  day 
broke  on  tlie  morning  of  the  24th  of  December. 

At  five  o'clock  that  moi'ning  I  went  on  watch  alone  till  ten 
o'clock,  relieving  the  seco]id  officer ;  our  regular  watches  were 
quite  disoi-ganised.  The  storm  had  by  now  blown  itself  out,  but 
the  seas  wei'C  still  running  mountains  high  and  the  ship  was 
rolling  heavily. 

By  noon  the  engineei-s  had  repaired  the  broken  rod  and  the 
steering  gear  was  put  into  woi-king  order.  Late  in  the  day  steam 
was  got  up  in  one  of  the  boilei's  and  the  ship  was  bi'ought  under 
control.  The  seas  were,  however,  still  too  high  to  permit  us  to 
resume  our  westward  course,  so  the  ship  was  hove  to.  That 
night  was  fairly  fine,  but  the  anxiety  as  to  whether  the  steering 
gear  would  stand  the  incessant  strain  of  the  big  seas  that  were 
running  was  with  us  the  whole  night.  In  ordei-  to  relieve  the 
strain  and  lessen  the  jerking  we  fixed  running  blocks  and 
tackles  to  the  quadrant — a  pi-ecaution  it  would  have  been  wisei' 
to  have  adopted  before  the  accident  ! 

By  midnight  the  seas  had  modei'ated  enough  to  allow  us  to 
resume  our  course,  though  the  engines  were  only  put  at  half- 
speed.  Our  progress  was  consequently  slow. 

The  day — Christmas  Day — ^broke  dull  and  threatening. 
Another  serious  trouble  now  confronted  us.  Owing  to  the  con- 
tinual rolling  and  lurching  of  the  steamer  the  cargo  in  two  of  the 
hatches  had  shifted  considerably,  listing  the  ship  well  over  to 
starboard.  By  noon  she  was  listing  fully  seven  degi-ees.  Thei'e 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  open  up  the  hatches  and  retrim  the 
sliifted  cargo.  To  o])en  up  hatches  while  big  seas  were  being  con- 
tinually shipped  was  a  risk  we  had  to  run.  The  ever-increasing 
list  of  the  ship  was  a  serious  danger,  one  that  might  at  any 
moment  be  the  cause  of  the  vessel  foundei'ing.  Consequently  the 
best  part  of  the  day  was  spent  under  the  hatches  restowing  the 
sacks  of  flour.  All  hands,  from  the  chief  officer  to  the  cook,  were 

119 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

engaged.  The  Chinese  had  by  now  recovered  from  their  i'right 
since  the  danger  of  foundering  was  for  a  time  averted.  By  night- 
time the  ship  was  considerably  straightened. 

It  was  not,  certainly,the  most  ideal  way  of  spending  the  season 
of  Christmas  ;  we  had,  however,  no  alternative.  My  Christmas 
fare  consisted  of  some  old  salted  pork — ^of  very  doubtful  age— 
with  the  luxury  of  a  bottle  of  German  beer.  Salt  junk  was  the 
staple  diet  on  board.  Ratiojis  of  one  tin  of  milk,  two  pounds  of 
sugar,  and  tea,  had  to  last  five  of  us  in  a  mess  for  a  week — of 
course,  it  never  did.  We  had  also  some  tough  Shanghai  pigs  on 
board.  Eating  them  in  no  way  compensated  us  for  the  ungodly 
row  they  raised  in  bad  weather. 

At  daybreak  on  the  following  morning — Boxing  Day — the 
clattering  of  chains  amidships  and  the  ship  falling  off  her  course 
informed  us  that  once  again  the  steei'ing  gear  had  broken.  I 
was  on  watch  at  the  time.  A  glance  at  the  compass  was  enough  ! 
Calling  out  all  hands  I  rushed  aft.  In  a  moment  I  saw  that  the 
repaired  rod  had  again  parted.  Fortunately  the  mate  had  had 
the  foresight  to  leave  in  readiness  the  wire  hawser  ;  so  it  was  not 
long  before  the  rudder  was  securely  lashed.  Perceiving  the  use- 
lessness  of  again  repairing  the  rod  we  substituted  in  its  stead  a 
length  of  wire  rope.  This  answered  rather  too  successfully,  as  the 
strength  of  the  wire  threw  exti'a  strain  on  the  chains  round  the 
quadrant.  In  the  night  watch  a  link  in  one  of  these  chains 
snapped  ;  and — for  the  third  time — the  ship  drifted  helpless 
before  the  wind.  The  link  was  repaired  and  for  the  third  time 
we  endeavoured  to  continue  our  luckless  voyage  !  The  old  tramp 
was  a  veritable  ''  coffin-sliij)  "'  ;  overladen,  ill-equipped,  under- 
manned^— and  yd  she  zvas  100  .i  1  at  Lloyd's  !  I  wonder  who  was 
the  surveyor  ! 

The  Santolo  certainly  boi'c  a  charmed  life.  It  was  something 
to  have  been  adi'ift  three  times  in  the  worst  weather  imaginable 
and  yet  to  be  still  afloat  ! 

The  idea  of  continuing  our  attempt  to  make  the  northern 
])ass;ige  through  the  Paeifie  to  Vladivo^toek  in  our  present 
battered  eoiiditio]i  was  abandoned,  despite  the  exhortations  of 

120 


A   STORIVIY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE   PACIFIC 

the  captain,  who,  poor  devil,  was  anxious  to  make  the  speediest 
voyage  possible.  It  was  Iiis  first  command.  But  it  was  obvious 
to  all  that  a  few  more  days  of  similar  battering  about  would  be 
the  finish  of  the  old  steamer — doubtless  to  the  great  regret  of  the 
owners  !  I  say  this  because  it  came  to  my  ears  that  the  ship  was 
to  be  sold  to  the  Japanese  for  a  sum  considerably  less  than  that 
for  which  she  was  insured  ! 

Our  course  was  changed  and  we  headed  for  Honolulu,  in  the 
Hawaiian  Islands,  to  put  in  for  repairs. 

The  weather  till  the  29th  kept  moderately  good — moderately, 
in  comparison  with  the  weather  we  had  been  lately  enjoying. 
We  made  but  poor  progress,  though,  owing  to  the  heavy  seas 
that  were  running- — the  aftermath  of  the  gales  that  had  been 
sweeping  over  these  northerly  waters.  I  would  like  to  meet  the 
man  who  gave  to  this  ocean  the  name  of  PACIFIC  ! 

In  the  evening  of  that  day  a  heavy  gale  from  the  south-east 
sprung  up.  The  seas  soon  got  too  high  for  us  to  proceed,  and 
again  for  some  hours  we  were  compelled  to  heave  to.  When 
the  storm  abated  and  the  seas  had  moderated  to  some  extent 
we  resumed  our  course.  Xot  for  long,  liowever,  as  an  even 
stronger  gale  broke  over  the  ship  the  following  day.  Again  we 
lay  hove  to  for  houi's  !  During  all  this  bad  weather  we  had 
with  us  the  continual  anxiety  as  to  whether  our  patched-up 
steering  gear  would  stand  the  strain  of  the  mountainous  seas 
that  broke  over  the  ship.  We  became  nervous  as  cats.  On  watch 
the  sound  of  the  fireman  damping  over  the  ashes  would  strike  our 
ears  as  the  sound  of  steering  chains  unshipped ;  and  for  a  moment 
our  hearts  would  be  in  our  mouths.  Fortunately  the  gear  held. 
We  all  considered  ourselves  very  lucky  that  we  had  come  out  of 
the  storm,  and  that  the  damage  had  been  no  worse.  But  we  had 
no  wish  to  try  the  capricious  kindness  of  Fate  too  much,  for  fear 
she  might  take  it  into  her  head  to  withhold  her  helping  hand  on 
the  next  occasion.  With  every  storm  the  vessel  met  the  cabins 
amidships  were  flooded.  The  ship  leaked  like  a  sieve  !  The 
pumps  were  kept  going  more  or  less  continuously  the  whole 
voyage.    The    bilges    and    bi]gc-pum})s    were    now    in    order 

121 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAII> 

again,  tliougli  not  till  alter  sonic  \Tr\'  tr\ing  woi'k  for  the 
engineers. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  the  weather  eleared  and  the  seas 
modei-ated.  We  set  our  eourse  south-west  and  rang  down  "  full 
s])eed  " — for  nearly  the  fu'st  time  sinee  our  departure. 

Oiu'  Oriental  erew  from  the  outset  of  the  voyage  had  been 
constantly  giving  trouble,  quite  apart  from  theii-  mutinous 
behavioui'  whilst  the  shi])  was  in  distress.  This  day  was  marked 
on  our  log  as  the  occasion  of  an  attempt  on  the  life  of  the  captain 
by  one  of  the  ci-ew,  who  had  been  detected  in  the  theft  of  some 
of  the  ship's  stoi'cs.  The  Chinaman  was  put  in  irons.  He  w-as 
kept  there  for  forty-eight  hours  and  was  only  released  because 
he  was  the  ship's  cook.  He  had  to  thank  liis  unspeakable  deputy 
for  the  taking-off  of  the  chains  of  justice,  for  as  long  as  he  was 
in  irons  no  one  could  get  a  decently  cooked  meal. 

The  only  ill  effect  from  the  many  days  of  exposure  through 
which  I  had  passed  was  a  sore  throat.  But  seeing  that  since 
leaving  Ladysmith  none  of  us  had  changed  our  daily  soaked 
clothes,  or  doffed  our  sea-boots  for  many  liours,  I  felt  I  had 
nothing  much  to  complain  about.  I  must  confess  though  that 
during  these  few  days  I  felt  I  had  received  somewhat  more  experi- 
ence than  I  cared  for  ;  that  the  goddess  of  the  shiine  at  which  I 
was  dedicating  my  young  life  was  hardly  "  playing  the  game." 

I  recalled  that,  during  the  time  when  I  was  on  the  Strathyre, 
on  many  occasions — always  in  the  fmc  weather  ! — I  had  secretly 
wished  for  the  ship  to  go  ashoi'c  in  order  to  obtain  the  experience 
of  being  shipwrecked.  But  on  the  Santolo.  dming  the  few 
days  we  were  lying  helpless  and  disabled  in  those  tei-rifie  seas 
witfi  every  probability  of  being  wrecked,  my  thoughts  were  of 
quite  a  different  order.  I  do  hope  I  have  not  conveyed  the  im- 
pression that  during  these  days  I  was  a  little  tin  hero  ;  that  I 
stood  on  the  bridge  like  a  young  Nelso]i,  undismayed,  fearless 
and  calm  !  If  I  have — let  me  set  mattci's  right.  When  I  caught 
sight  of  some  of  those  horrible  green-crested  wa\'es  rolling 
towards  the  old  ti'ani])  adi'ift  on  the  ocean  I  ^^'as  far  from 
feeling  undismayed,  or  calm,  oi-  feai'less.  I  will  be  quite  candid. 

122 


A   STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE   PACIFIC 

There  was  not  much  undismayed,  calm  and  i'eai'less  demeanour 
about  me  when,  on  one  occasion,  I  missed  my  footing  and, 
caught  at  tlie  some  moment  by  a  big  sea  whieli  cnme  on  board 
unannounced,  was  swept  to  the  i-ails,  where,  but  for  (jnetliin  bar 
to  whieli  I  chmg  like  grim  death  with  my  feet  in  the  water,  I 
liad  been  overboard! 

The  day  of  the  Ncm'  Year  (1908)  broke  fiiie  and  sunny,  as  we 
wei'e  now  getting  into  more  southerly  latitudes.  We  saw  the 
Old  Year  out  on  the  bridge  with  a  bowl  of  claret-cup.  The  light 
winds  and  calm  seas  were  most  welcome  to  us  after  the  days 
of  storms  and  gales,  for  we  all  felt  that  we  had  had  our  fill  of 
bad  weather  in  that  one  week- — enouo-h  to  last  us  for  the  vovaffc. 

Steaming  south-west  we  sighted  the  Hawaiian  Islands  on  the 
evening  of  the  6th,  when  we  entered  the  ti'opics.  That  evening 
I  witnessed  perhaps  the  most  perfect  sunset  I  have  ever  seen  at 
sea.  3Iy  diary  records  it  in  rather  extravagant  language  : 
"  Gorgeous  sunset — ^indesci-ibable  by  pen,  unportrayable  by 
brush  !  "  The  words  were  moi-e  than  true,  for  not  even  Turner 
with  his  magic  touch  could  have  transferred  to  a  canvas  one- 
tenth  of  those  delicate  tints  and  rich  blending  colours  at  which 
I  gazed  for  so  many  minutes  spellbound. 

We  anehoied  eai-ly  in  the  morning  in  Honolulu,  having  stood 
on  ajid  off  from  the  island  of  Oahu  during  the  night. 

I  had  learnt  before  my  arrival  that  the  climate  of  the  Hawaiian 
Islands  was  nearly  the  finest  in  the  world  ;  and  I  must  say  that 
during  the  ten  days  or  so  that  we  lay  at  anchor  in  Honolulu  it 
fully  lived  up  to  the  reputation.  The  sim  shone  all  the  time,  the 
heat  of  the  day  being  tempci'cd  by  the  cool  trade  breezes  that 
bhnv  the  year  round. 

The  ai'rival  of  our  steamer  "in  distress"  at  the  Sandwich 
Islands — a  veritable  oasis  in  the  desert  of  the  Pacific — furnished 
the  Yankee  reporteis  with  plenty  of  material.  Tliey  had  boarded 
Us  before  oiu-  mooring  Wncs  were  made  fast.  Thrilling  yains,  and, 
incidentally,  thrilling  lies  also,  appeared  about  our  shi])  and  our 
ex"[)criences  at  sea  in  the  following  day's  issue  of  the  yellow  rags 
that  wcvv  tei'med  Jiewspapers.  Such  lieadings  as:  "Thi'ce  Days  in 

123 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Battle  for  Life  !  "  and:  "Thrilling  Tales  of  Distress  at  Sea  !  " 
were  quite  modei'ate  in  comparison  with  some  of  them.  Yellow 
journalism  is  in  its  prime  in  Honolulu.  What  a  blend  :  yellow 
journalism  and  the  tropical  paradise  of  Captain  Cook's  time  ! 

Aftei'  I'cpairs  had  started  it  was  arranged  to  sell  in  Honolulu 
as  much  of  the  cargo  of  flour  as  had  been  damaged  by  salt  water. 
It  was  also  decided  to  dispose  of  the  greater  part  of  the  consign- 
ment of  fresh  fruit,  which  was  now  nearly  ripe,  as  we  calculated 
that  a  full  month  would  elapse  before  the  steamer  could  reach 
Vladivostock.  By  that  time  the  fruit  would  all  have  perished. 
Before  discharging  any  cargo,  howevc]-,  we  had  first  to  obtain 
by  cable  the  pei'mission  of  the  American  authorities  at  Washing- 
ton, the  reason  for  this  being  that  we  had  loaded  the  cargo  in 
American  ports,  and  Honolulu  being  territory  of  the  U.S.A. 
it  was  consequently  against  the  regulations  to  land  there  any 
cargo  or  passengers.  But  in  view  of  the  peculiar  circumstances, 
cable  permission  was  soon  forthcoming,  and  the  discharge  of 
the  cargo  took  place. 

At  this  port,  as  in  America,  the  same  immigration  regula- 
tions were  in  force  regarding  the  entry  of  Asiatics.  I  was 
consequently  on  night  watch  to  pi-event  any  of  the  crew  ab- 
sconding, though  the  risk  of  this  was  not  so  great  as  when  in 
America  since  the  ship  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  there  being 
practically  no  wharf  accommodation  at  all  in  Honolulu.  Being 
on  night  watch  I  had  consequently  the  day  to  myself.  After 
a  sleep  till  noon  I  used  to  spend  most  of  my  time  ashoi-c,  visiting 
some  of  the  pretty  spots  in  the  island.  Tiirough  the  judicious 
disposal  of  a  few  old  clothes  to  a  Kanaka  boatmaii  I  was  able  to 
j'aise  a  few  dollars,  which  was  the  ojily  money  in  my  ])ossession, 
as  I  was  vmfortunately  not  in  receipt  of  any  wages  on  board  the 
steamer ;  I  was  merely  working  my  passage. 

ludispctisable  as  Western  iirtun'ations  undoubtedly  are,  they 
certainly  seemed  out  of  ])laee  in  the  island^  of  Hawaii,  ^fy  fertile 
imagination,  fed  on  stories  of  C!a})tain  Cook,  had  eonjui'cd  up 
lovely  scenes  of  dusky  maidens  sitting  under  palm-trees  waiting 
for  eo(;oanuts  to  f;i,]l,  etc.  Instead  of  these  I  fouiul  tramears, 

124 


.,-.„-,.:a 


i\'  il  r  1  1 


A   STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC 

yellow  newspapers  and  Japanese  coolies.  Japanese  coolies 
seemed  to  be  more  nmiierous  in  these  islands  than  anybody  else, 
barring  the  aborigine  Kanaka,  who,  however,  is  fast  dying  out. 
It  suggests  an  amusing,  not  to  say  peculiar,  situation  in  the 
event  of  war  breaking  out  between  the  owners  of  the  island, 
the  Americans,  and  the  chief  inhabitants,  the  Japanese. 
Doubtless  these  latter  take  more  than  neighbourl3'  interest 
in  the  im})rovcments  that  are  being  effected  in  the  fortifications 
at  Pearl  Harbour  in  Oahu  Island.  In  fact  it  was  rumoured, 
though  I  cannot  confirm  it,  that  the  Japanese  objected  to  certain 
material  being  used  by  the  Americans  in  parts  of  these  forts, 
because  they,  anticipating  a  more  or  less  early  "moving-in," 
did  not  consider  it  was  the  best  material  for  the  purpose  ! 

Whilst  I  was  making  my  daily  prowls  round  the  island  our 
steamer  was  having  a  new  steering  gear  put  in,  its  broken  boats 
Avere  being  repaired  and  the  wrecked  deckwork  lenovated — all 
at  the  expense  of  that  seemingly  generous  institution,  Lloyd's  ! 
The  new  steering  gear  that  was  put  in  at  no  expense  to  the  ship 
only  replaced  one  worn  out  and  depreciated  by  wear  ;  not  one 
wrecked  by  the  "  act  of  God."  New  boat-covers  were  supplied 
the  ship  to  replace  those  lost  whilst  "  in  distress  at  sea."  I  had 
never  seen  them  before  the  distress  at  sea  ;  but  still !  I  w^as  sorry 
afterwards  that  I  had  not  put  in  a  claim  for  my  old  pair  of 
dungarees  that  saw  their  last  during  "  distress  at  sea."  What  a 
nice  thing  it  is  to  be  100  A  1  at  Lloyd's  ! 

Just  prior  to  our  departure  from  Honolulu  we  had  serious 
trouble  with  our  Chinese  crew.  On  our  arrival  we  had  reported 
to  the  authorities  their  mutinous  behaviour  at  sea  ;  for  this  they 
had  been  "  logged  "  a  month's  pay — -a  very  light  punishment. 
The  Orientals  on  the  other  hand  had  alleged  to  their  Consul 
cruelty  on  our  part  ;  but  their  allegations  were  disregaixled. 
Daily  affrays  occurred,  and  one  incident,  for  which  I  unfortun- 
ately was  responsible,  brouglit  matters  to  a  head.  The  mess-room 
boy  omitted  to  call  me  at  noon  (after  my  night  watch),  and  on 
my  reprimanding  him  for  his  neglect  became  cheeky,  whereupon 
I  rather  hastily  ejected  him  from  the  mess-room  with  my  boot. 

125 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

The  Chinaman  picked  up  a  laiiic  and  dui'ing  the  seuffle  that 
ensued  he  got  a  few  nasty  knocks  and  I  a  i-ippcd-0])en  coat.  This 
incident,  tJiough  triliiiig  and  not  unusual,  was  unfortunately 
witnessed  by  a  Kanaka  boatman,  who  informed  some  of  the 
Yankee  i-e])ortei\s  ashore.  Next  day  wc  read  sensational  headings 
in  the  Yellow  Pj-css  :  ""  Shocking  Affray  on  Boaid  the  Santolo — 
CJiinese  Consul  going  on  Board  to  investigate  Alleged  Cruelty  !  " 
and  so  on.  The  latter  ])ai't  of  this  heading  was  ap])arently  correct, 
for  the  Chinese  CojlsuI  ditl  put  in  an  appearance  the  following 
morning.  I  went  ashoie  !  On  investigation  the  Consul  I'emarked 
to  the  captain  that  he  was  sorry  that  only  two-inch  rubber 
packing  liad  been  used  (one  of  the  crew's  allegations  was  that 
they  had  been  struck  by  the  oflieers  and  cjigineers  with  rubber 
})aeking)  instead  of  four-inch.  With  regard  to  the  incident  with 
which  1  was  concerned  the  captain  infoiincd  the  Consul  of  the 
facts  of  the  case.  The  mess-room  boy  also  had  no  ])igtail  !  That 
was  enough  !  I  was  fully  exonei'ated,  the  Consul  remarking, 
after  havijig  scuttled  my  accuser  from  the  cabin :  "  He  fully 
deserved  all  he  got  !  " 

As  though  the  troubles  of  the  old  tram])  weie  not  yet  sulheient, 
we  were  delayed  by  the  United  States  authorities  seizing  the 
steamer  on  tlie  eve  of  de])arture  pending  the  .settlement  of  a 
suit  brought  against  her  by  a  former  dismissed  engineei-  claiming 
foi-  unpaid  Avages.  The  lirst  intimation  I  ol)taiued  of  this  wa,s  by 
linding  on  my  leturn  fiom  shoi'c  a  deputy  ])ati'()lling  the  decks, 
and  o])serving  a  small  riotiee  ])in]U'd  on  to  tlu^  mainmast  inform- 
ing all  ])ersons  to  the  effect  that  anyone  fouiid  taking  away  any 
])art  of  the  Sant'do  would  be  !ial)le  to  the  U.S.A.,  etc.  Beyond 
Avondei'ing  who  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  ^vaste  his  \  ime  in  taking 
away  any  ))art  of  that  old  tram])  'he  mattei'  woiried  me  little. 

The  ease  was  tried  and  the  N'eidict  ^vas  gi\c'ri  in  faA'our  of  the 
shi]);  but  theeaplain  was  adx  iscd  to  set  He  the  luatler  by]);iying 
up  to  avoid  fuithei'  delay.  The  matter  was  eloped  bva  j^aytneirfc 
of  two  hundic-d  aud  lil'ty  dollars.  The  ])ayiueiit  of  this  siiui  of 
money,  together  with  the  cost  of  the  shi]>  being  detained  for  two 
extia  da\'s,  must  Imw  aiuouided  to  ncaily  one  hundred  pounds. 

Tib 


A   STOIOIY  VOYAGi:  ACROSS  THE   PACIFIC 

Even  to-day  I  cannot  quite  refrain  from  a  sardonic  chuckle 
when  I  picture  the  owners'  faces  on  receiving,  instead  of  the 
terrible  news  '"''  Santolo  reported  missing,"  only  a  pile  of  bills  ! 

Noon  of  the  18th  January  saw  the  Saiitolo  sail  proudly  out  of 
the  harbour  of  Honolulu  ;  and  half-an-hour  after  noon  saw  the 
old  tramp  again  broken  down  !  The  pilot  had  just  left  us  when 
the  second  engineer  came  on  the  bridge  with  the  unwelcome 
information  that  the  engines  of  the  steamer  (100  A  1  at  Lloyd's  !) 
were  disabled  ;  and,  incidentally,  that  the  chief  engineer  was 
lying  drunk  in  his  cabin  !  I  could  not  but  feel  soj'ry  for  the  young 
captain  on  this  first  connnand  of  his  having  such  innumerable 
troubles  ;  they  were  enough  indeed  to  try  a  far  more  experienced 
man.  But  the  German  sailor  is  no  chicken-hearted  type  of 
mail  and  our  young  captain  was  no  exception.  Then  and  there 
lie  disrated  the  drimken  engineer,  promoting  the  second  engineer 
to  the  position  of  chief.  After  a  period  of  six  houj-s  lying  anchored 
just  outside  the  harbour  the  engines  were  repaired  and  we  set 
oiir  course  north-west.  Just  one  more  untoward  incident  occurred 
before  we  had  seen  the  last  of  the  islands.  Whilst  heaving  up 
the  anchor  the  flukes  dropped  overboard,  the  connecting  pin 
having  parted  consumed  by  the  rust  of  years.  Had  not  the  ship 
been  sold  to  the  Japanese  (a  nice,  new,  skilfully  disguised  icoodcn 
pair  of  flukes  being  substituted),  Lloyd's,  doubtless,  would 
have  been  generous  enough  to  supply  us  with  a  new  anchor  ! 

]\rerc  trifles  such  as  this  we  noAV  legarded  as  of  no  impor- 
tance. ^Ve  were  quite  prepaicd  to  see  the  funnel  roll  over- 
l)Ourd.  In  J'act,  during  tliis  second  ])art  of  the  voyage  we  were 
compelled  daily  to  tighten  u})  the  stays  that  supported  the 
sJiioke -stack. 

We  kei)t  fair  weatlier  \vith  us  till  four  days  after  leaving  the 
islands,  when,  getting  into  moi'c  nortlicj'ly  latitudes,  signs  of 
apj)roaehing  bad  weather  were  soon  visi])k'.  After  one  strong 
soutli-cast  gale  had  Ijattered  us  about  we  decided  to  sneak 
away  south  again.  Our  course  ^vns  changed  to  west  by  south. 

The  Jicw  steering  gear  that  had  been  ])ut  in  was  now  the 
somec  of  fresh  anxiet}" ;  for,  being  new  and  consequently  strong, 

127 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

it  threw  an  ususual  and  extra  strain  on  the  sheaves  amidships 
which,  we  found  to  our  dismay,  w'cre  being  slowly  dragged  from 
out  of  the  decks.  Lashings  were  consequently  fastened  to  prevent 
this  happening  and  one  by  one  the  old  bolts  were  taken  out  and 
replaced  by  new  ones.  The  old  bolts,  once  seven-eighths  of  an 
inch,  were  worn  and  rusted  in  their  centre  to  less  than  three- 
eighths  of  an  inch  !  And  yet  the  Santolo  was  100  A 1  at  Lloyd's  ! 

Once  more  the  ship's  decks  were  littered  with  lashings.  The 
j-unning  bridge  w^liich  connected  the  amidship-quarters  with 
the  poop — over  the  aft'  well  deck — had  to  be  lashed  securely  to 
the  ship's  side,  as  the  seas  that  continually  struck  it  were  slowly 
forcing  it  from  its  supports.  At  night-time,  particularly  on  dark 
nights,  it  was  just  about  as  nmch  as  one  could  do  to  cover  the 
length  of  the  decks  without  breaking  one's  neck  over  the  blocks 
and  tackles  that  lay  here,  there,  and  everywhere.  About  the  only 
parts  that  were  not  lashed  were  the  two  sides  of  the  steamer. 

Steaming  south  and  west  we  ran  again  into  more  moderate 
weather.  A  week  out  from  Honolulu  we  were  delayed  for  a  few 
more  hours,  our  engines  again  breaking  down.  But  what  were  a 
few  hours  to  us  already  weeks  late  ?  The  day  following — the 
26th — ^my  diary  reads:  "Did  not  live  to-day;  crossed  the 
180°  meridian  !  "  ^ 

During  the  three  following  days  we  I'an  again  into  extremely 
bad  'weather,  a  sci-ies  of  gales  and  violent  squalls  coming  up  from 
all  directions  to  meet  the  ship.  On  the  29th  we  were  hove  to 
for  nearly  twelve  hours  ;  our  log  for  that  day  registered  under 
ni]rety  miles.  We  were  "  staiiding  by  "  most  of  that  night,  as 
we  feared  that  at  any  moment  something  would  carry  away,  or 
lliat  one  of  the  hatches  would  be  stove  in  under  the  onslaught 
of  the  tremendous  seas  that  struck  the  ship.  At  daybreak  the 
bleak  a]ul  awful  expanse  of  J'aging  seas  that  met  our  eyes,  the 
Diountainous  waves  at  which  we  would  gaze  u]),  each  appearing 
as  though  it  would  break  clear  over  the  shi]),  struck  a  chill  in 

^  i8o'  I'2.  is  twelve  liours  aliead  of  Greenwich  time  ;  i8o°  W.  is  twelve 
hours  behinch  irencc,  from  iSo"  K.  to  i8o°  W.  the  time  will  be  ahead 
t\s'eiity-four  iiuurs — one  complete  day. 

128 


A   STOIIMY   VOYAGP:  ACROSS  THE  PACIFIC 

all  our  hearts.  We  remained  hove  to  all  that  day.  When  the 
groaning  and  ereaking  of  beams  and  stanchions  would  sound 
more  ominously  than  usual  in  our  eai-s,  as  the  ship  was  riding 
some  of  those  tremendous  seas,  the  thought  that  the  old  tramp 
might  at  any  moment  break  hci-  back  flashed  through  our  minds. 
But  the  Santolo  behaved  splendidly  ;  she  was  indeed  a  credit  to 
her  builders.  Though  nearly  three  decades  old,  she  was  a  far 
better  sea-boat  than  some  of  the  thin-plated  tramps  designed 
to-day.  Good  material  was  used  in  the  building  of  the  old 
Santolo ;  any  Meak  spot  would  soon  have  been  discovered  in  the 
weather  she  buttled  with  for  days  on  end  during  that  voyage. 

Just  before  dark  we  passed  the  U.S.A.  transport  Thomas, 
eastward  bound.  She  was  also,  we  could  see  from  our  decks, 
labouring  heavily  in  the  seas  and  making  but  poor  progress. 
Towards  evening  the  gale  seemed  to  culminate  in  one  squall  of 
terrific  f ui'y.  For  ten  minutes  the  wind  blew  with  huri-icanc  force  ; 
torrential  rains  swept  the  decks  ;  vivid  lightning  flashed  and 
heavy  biu'sts  of  thunder  crashed.  It  then  ceased  almost  suddenly, 
and  the  glass  rose  perceptibly. 

SloAvly  the  Santolo  struggled  on,  daily  battered  by  storms  and 
gales,  though  we  kept  as  far  south  as  avc  could.  Our  poor  progress 
now  began  to  raise  in  our  mijids  the  sickening  thought  that  wc 
might  run  short  of  coal  before  Ave  could  reach  Japan — the 
nearest  land.  This  thought  gi'owing,  we  experimented  with  sacks 
of  flour  mixed  with  cinders  to  sec  if  we  could  save  our  coal ; 
but  the  result  was  not  promising.  On  the  5th  of  Februaiy  wc 
fourid  ourselves  six  liundred  miles  from  Yokohama  and  eight 
hundred  juiles  from  ^luroran,  the  latter  port  being  a  small 
coaling  place  in  the  nortl)  island  of  Japan,  where  the  steamer  liad 
arranged  to  bunker.  We  Avere  in  a  regular  quandary.  If  such 
weathei'  continued  and  we  made  no  better  progress  than  we 
had  iji  the  last  ten  days,  we  had  barely  sufficient  coal  in  om- 
bunkers  to  reach  Yokohama.  And  to  go  into  juoi-e  northerly 
latitudes  ^vith  the  chance  of  encountering  even  worse  weather 
to  Muroran,  some  two  hundred  miles  farther  off,  seemed  mad- 
ness. Yet  to  go  to  Yokohama  was  a  course  the  captain  Avas 
I  129 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

naturally  loth  to  adopt,  for  there  the  price  of  coal  would  be 
considerably  higher  as  he  had  no  contract ;  and  it  was  also 
much  out  of  our  direction.  At  this  juncture  the  captain  fell  ill 
and  the  mate  took  command.  For  a  day  or  two  we  postponed 
our  decision  and  kept  on  our  southerly  course.  The  weather 
seemed  to  grow  even  worse.  Driving  gales  and  storms  came  up 
to  meet  us  from  every  quarter.  In  fact,  witliin  forty-eight  hours 
a  full  cyclonic  movement  of  the  wind  would  be  completed.  The 
movement  would  start  with  a  gale  from  the  south-west  ;  the 
wind  would  then  veer  round  to  the  noith,  from  whence  it  would 
blow  hard.  Blowing  itself  out  in  this  direction  it  would  then  shift 
to  the  eastward  and  blow  hard  from  the  north-east.  A  few  hours 
afterwards  it  would  be  round  again  in  the  south.  This  is  an 
extract  from  my  diary  for  the  3rd  February  :  "  Wind  S.E., 
moderate  gale  with  high  seas.  In  the  afternoon  watch — 
high  confused  sea  running  ;  heavy  rainfall,  with  squalls  almost 
of  hurricane  force.  Stormy  night — '  hove  to  '  all  night  from 
noon."  This  w^as  nearly  a  typical  day's  entry  in  the  ship's  log 
since  we  left  Honolulu.  It  is  hard  to  convey  in  a  few  words  a 
description  of  the  bad  weather  that  we  had  daily  w'ith  us  then. 
In  no  other  ocean — M'hether  in  the  North  Atlantic  in  mid- 
winter or  in  a  heavy  monsoon  in  the  China  Seas — have  I  ever 
experienced  such  terrific  weather  as  we  met  in  that  winter 
of  1907-1908  in  the  Pacific. ^  I  relate  just  one  instance  which 
may  convey  a  slight  idea  of  the  force  and  height  of  some 
of  the  seas  that  swept  the  heavily  laden  steamer.  A  big  sea 
struck  us  on  our  starboard  quai'ter.  It  swept  the  bridge  ;  hurled 
both  the  quartermaster  at  the  wheel  and  myself  to  the  deck 
which  foi-  nearly  five  minutes  was  running  a  foot  in  water ; 
and  ha  if -wrecked  the  wheel-house  smashing  the  windows  to 
fiTigments. 

On  tlie  8th  we  liud  seventy-five  tons  of  coal  left,  barely  four 

days'  steaming  power,  and  Ave  were  four  hundred  miles  from 

Muroran,  and  lialf  tliat  distance  from  Yokohama.  As  the  weather 

seemed  elianging  slightly  for  tlie  better  we  decided  ^o  risk  it  ; 

^  It  lb  Oil  record  that  this  v/mlcr  \',ds  the  wcrsi  ior  twenty-five  years. 

I  JO 


A  STORMY  VOYAGE  ACROSS  THE   PACIFIC 

and  our  course  was  changed  to  north-west  by  north.  We  were 
hoping  against  hope  that  when  under  the  lee  of  the  Japanese 
coast  we  should  be  more  sheltered  and  make  better  progress. 
This  was  fortunately  the  case  ;  for  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
following  our  change  of  course  we  sighted  in  the  distance  the 
snow-clad  hills  of  Japan— a  very  welcome  sight !  Steaming  north 
and  west  the  weather  grew  very  cold,  the  north  wind  being  keen 
and  piercing.  Towards  night  it  grew  colder  still,  snow  and  sleet 
squalls  blinding  us  on  watch.  To  be  on  watch  in  the  tropics  is 
a  very  different  matter  to  pacing  a  snow-covered  bridge  with 
an  icy  wind  piercing  one's  vitals,  when  ropes  and  rigging  are 
frozen  stiff  and  the  decks  covered  with  icicles. 

Skirting  the  shelteriiig  coast  of  Japan  we  entered  the  Straits 
of  Hakodate  early  on  the  morning  of  the  10th,  and  anchored  off 
the  port  of  ]\Iuroran  shortly  afterwards.  We  had  on  our  arrival 
less  than  twenty  tons  of  coal  in  the  bunkers.  Had  it  not  been 
that  we  had  experienced  comparatively  good  weather  since  sight- 
ing the  shores  of  Japan,  I  fear  to  contemplate  the  position  in 
which  we  should  have  found  ourselves — adrift  in  those  seas  ! 

The  voyage  from  Ladysmith  to  Muroran  had  taken  us  a  period 
of  exactly  fifty  days,  instead  of  the  nineteen  days  estimated 
when  we  started  the  northern  passage.  It  had  brought  to  all  of 
us  one  series  of  incessant  troubles  and  privation  and  had  been 
to  me  as  startling  as  the  preceding  trip  round  South  America 
had  been  uneventful.  I  think  I  saw  more  in  that  one  trip  than  if 
I  had  been  going  to  sea  steadily  for  a  period  of  seven  years. 

As  may  be  imagined  it  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
I  said  auf  zviedersehen  to  the  old  ship  and  my  shipmates.  When  I 
saw  the  last  of  the  old  Santolo  fading  in  the  distance  I  did  feel 
proud  of  her,  of  the  gallant  way  she  had  battled  storms  and  gales 
for  weeks,  and  had  won  through  the  long  series  of  disasters 
that  had  befallen  her. 

With  the  good  wishes  of  my  late  companions  I  set  my  feet  on 
Japan's  hospitable  shores  on  the  11th  of  February.  I  liad  three 
shillings  in  my  pocket. 


131 


CHAPTER    X 

IMPRESSIONS   ()]•  JAPAN    AND   TIIK   JAF'ANESE 

BMFORK  ihe  Santolo's  avnxixX  at  the  sliores  of  Japan  I 
IkuI  p]aiincd  in  saiiguiiic  moments  to  walk  to  Sapporo, 
a  town  in  the  centre  of  Hokkaido — about  seventy  miles 
or  so  north  of  ~Muroj-an.  Here  I  reTnembeved  that  a  Japanese 
f  I'iend  of  mine  whom  I  had  known  well  in  London  was  stationed. 
The  sio'ht,  however,  of  three  or  four  feet  of  snow  on  the  grouiid 
when  I  left  the  ship  I'ather  damped  my  ardour,  to  say  nothino-  of 
my  feet  ;  but  the  sight  of  telephones  was  a  considerable  I'clief, 
and  made  me  gratefid  for  once  to  the  inroads  of  Western 
civilisation  in  Japan. 

I  telc])honed  my  fi'iend  to  bori'ow  ten  yen  to  enable  me  to 
get  to  Tokio.  \vhei'e  I  counted  on  a  few  pounds  awaiting  ]ue 
(Christmas  letters  being  due).  As  I  expected,  my  sympathetic 
friend  did  foi-  me  all  that  I  asked  and  instructed  the  branch 
ollice  from  whei'e  I  was  tele})honingto  advance  me  what  I  needed 
for  my  ex])enses  south.  The  courteous  jigcjit  at  Muroran  could 
not  do  enough  for  me.  Hesides  providing  me  Avith  the  funds  I 
requiied  against  my  I.O.U.,  he  set  himself  out  to  entertain  me 
most  royally  during  my  short  stay  ;  and  I  snw  in  his  com])nny 
the  little  town  of  ^Nfuroran.  whei-e  I  gained  some  of  my  first 
])leasaiit  iiii])i'essions  of  Jaj>an  and  of  Ja})aiiese  hos})italit\'. 

\A'ith  him  I  ate  my  lirst  Japanese  dinnei-.  At  this  first  dinner 
of  iiiiju;  I  made  a,  distincf  jauir  ])as\  if  that  ex])ression  really 
rightly  (lescril)es  it.  I  must  lirst  meiifioii  that  for  most  of  the 
time  whilst  on  the  Saidolo  I  had  been  in  ihe  habit  of  wearing 
1  wo  ])airs  of  socks  under  ni\-  sea-boots,  wjiich  let  in  the  water 
rathei-  badly.  These  four  socks  which  F  would  pick  up  hap- 
liazai'd  -  genei'ally  in  Ihe  dai'k— -were  all  more  or  less  of  different 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN— THE   JAPANESE 

colour.  On  leaving"  the  steamer  I  considered,  as  tliere  was  so 
nuich  snow  on  the  ground,  that  my  sea-boots  would  be  the  very 
things  to  wear  ;  but  when  donning  them  I  forgot  to  substitute 
a  decent  pair  of  socks  for  the  Santolo  pairs. 

Without  any  misgivings  then  as  to  the  correctness  of  my  gai'b 
I  sailed  gaily  off  to  my  Japanese  dinnei'.  The  universal  custom 
in  Japan,  as  no  doubt  my  j-eader  knows,  demands  that  one  takes 
off  one's  shoes  before  entering  the  house  to  avoid  soiling  tlie 
delicate  tatami.  Of  this  I  was  not  then  aware,  o]-  had  forgotten 
— I  canTiot  quite  recall  now.  On  my  arrival,  anyway,  my 
Japanese  host  informed  me  of  his  country's  custom  in  this 
]'cgard.  Tr  was  not  till  I  began  tugging  off  one  of  my  heavy  sea- 
boots  that  the  first  misgivings  shot  through  me  as  to  whether 
my  socks  wei'C  de  rigueur  or  not.  The  fii'st  sock  or  socks  appeared. 
They  would  have  just  about  passed  in  a  crowd  with  a  series  of 
discreet  movements,  but  I  had  inward  qualms  that  the  other 
ones  would  not  so  successfully  pass  muster.  Alas  !  my  fears  were 
only  too  true  !  For  when  those  socks  appeared  to  light,  not  only 
were  they  of  a  different  colour  and  texture,  but  also  iuuch  of 
the  texture  of  the  socks  was  not  there  ! 

I  felt  slightly  foolish,  to  say  the  least  ;  though  I  manfully 
cjideavoured  to  maintain  my  composure  and  sense  of  dignity, 
which  was  hard  to  do  with  those  socks,  or  parts  of  them  at  least, 
staring  me  in  the  face.  I  endeavoured  further  to  insimiate  that 
it  was  a  hobby  of  mine  to  appear  thus  shod.  But  the  effort  seemed 
to  fall  somewhat  flat  ;  my  Japanese  host,  to  put  it  mildly, 
appeared  sceptical.  I  avoided  throughout  the  dinner  any 
unseemly  display  of  those  sea-socks,  and  they  in  no  way  inter- 
fered with  my  enjoyment  of  that  very  pleasant  evening — my 
fu'st  in  Japan. 

Many  things  in  this  part  of  Japan  struck  me  then  as  very 
quaint,  Western  civilisation  having  but  slightly  altered  the 
conditions  of  life.  I  was  fortunate  in  obtaining  here,  just  on  my 
entry  to  the  country,  a  glimpse  of  the  old  Japan  which  is  so 
quickly  passing  away  to  give  place  to  the  Japan  of  the  twentieth 
century.  I  always  feel  that  visitors  to  Japan  should  try  to  enter 

133 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  country  anywhere  but  at  the  treaty  ports  in  order  to  obtain 
true  and  accurate  first  impressions  of  the  land  they  are  visiting. 
First  impressions  mean  so- much — at  least  to  my  mind — and  for 
strangers  to  enter  Japan  at  Kobe  or  Yokohama  cannot  but  give 
them  an  untrue  impression  of  the  country.  It  would  perhaps 
not  be  so  bad  if  the  visitor  realised  that  fact  and  refrained 
from  giving  expression  to  distorted  and  crude  impressions.  Un- 
fortunately this  is  seldom  done.  Imagine  a  Chinaman  dwelling 
in  Limehouse  writing  his  views  of  England  ;  the  result  would 
be  about  as  edifying  as  is  the  average  tourist's  book  on  Japan. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  me  was  the  courtesy  and  cleanliness 
of  the  Japanese.  Everyone,  from  the  merchant  to  the  sampan 
coolie,  seemed  the  essence  of  courtesy^ — and,  what  is  more,  was 
so.  As  for  their  cleanliness,  even  the  coolie  took  his  two  hot  baths 
a  day.  The  subservience  of  the  women  to  the  men  was,  too,  very 
noticeable. 

Everybody,  I  observed,  seemed  to  smoke,  chiefly  cigarettes 
and  little  pipes  that  hold  a  pinch  of  tobacco  and  after  two  puffs 
of  smoke  are  fmished.  The  sound  of  the  geta  ^  on  the  hard  frosty 
roads  was  continually  causing  me  to  turn  round,  thinking  a  horse 
was  trotting  behind  me  ;  and  the  sight,  too,  of  strong  men  and 
dainty  women  hopping  over  the  ground  was  curious  then. 

A  twelve  hours'  passage  across  the  Straits  of  Hakodate 
brought  me  to  Aomori,  a  little  port  on  the  north  coast  of  the 
island  of  Nippon.  It  was  very  cold  and  nmch  snow  was  lying 
on  the  ground.  All  the  shops  and  houses  looked  very  quaint  and 
picturesque  in  their  white  coats.  My  presence  in  this  place 
attracted  a  considerable  amount  of  curiosity,  the  appearance 
of  foreigners  in  this  part  of  Japan  apparently  being  still  an  un- 
usual sight.  Crowds  of  little  toddlers  followed  me  in  bands  ;  they 
stopped  if  I  stopped,  moved  on  if  I  did.  Even  the  grown-ups  were 
nearly  as  bad  as  their  little  ones  in  this  respect.  There  was, 
however,  no  hostile  staring  ;  but  Just  the  same  curious  sort  of 
gaze  that  a  gorilla  walking  down  Regent  Street  would  attract 
from  those  in  the  road. 

'  Japanese  footwear. 
134 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN -THE   JAPANESE 

As  the  snow  was  very  thick  on  the  ground  sleighs  were  in 
much  use,  my  luggage  being  brought  from  the  steamer  to  the 
railway  station  in  one  of  these  conveyances. 

The  train  for  Tokio  started  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  view  one  obtained  as  the  train  sped  south  was  mostly  of 
little  groups  of  roofs  half  buried  under  the  snow.  We  reached 
Sendai,  a  fairly  large  city,  late  in  the  evening.  The  journey 
was  rather  tiring  as  I  was  travelling  on  a  slow  train  on 
which  there  were  no  sleeping  cars.  I  managed,  though,  to 
snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep  during  the  night,  but  was  not  sorry 
to  leave  the  train  on  our  arrival  at  Uyeno  station — the  Euston 
of  Tokio. 

To  be  candid,  my  first  impressions  of  Tokio  were  disappointing. 
It  was  not  the  capital's  fault  I'm  sure  ;  they  were  due  to  the 
erroneous  ideas  and  conceptions  I  had  formed  beforehand,  my 
imagination  having  been  fed  on  the  false  pictures  drawn  by 
writers  of  the  couleiir  de  rose  school. 

In  Tokio  I  gained  my  living  as  an  English  teacher.  The  task 
of  teaching  English  in  Japan  is  not  a  very  difficult  one.  It  is, 
however,  a  rather  tiring  occupation.  The  one  qualification 
necessary  is  tact. 

Discipline  in  Japanese  schools  is  very  lax.  It  is  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  the  student  virtually  rules  the  school.  His  power 
is  ridiculously  great.  Should  a  class  dislike  a  teacher,  they  either 
boycott  him,  or  they  boldly  proceed  en  masse  to  the  scliool 
authorities  and  demand  his  dismissal.  And  the  almost  inevitable 
result  is  the  teacher's  dismissal  !  To  the  authorities  the  only 
guarantee  of  the  efficiency  of  a  teacher  is  a  full  class-room. 
Needless  to  mention,  I  was  an  efTicient  teacher  ;  for  my  class- 
room was  always  full.  That  is  why  I  say  the  only  qualification 
needed  was  tact. 

Though  my  experience  was  confined  to  only  one  term,  I  was 
able  to  gain  a  fair  insight  into  Japanese  educational  methods, 
with  which,  to  be  frank,  I  was  by  no  means  impressed.  So  far  as 
I  could  see,  higher  education  in  Japan  meant  nothing  much  more 
than  the  successful  acquirement  of  a  superficial  smattering  of 

iJ5 


A   WAXDEREll'S  TRAIL 

knowledge.  The  Japanese  universities  and  higher  scliools  are 
turning  out  yearly  thousands  of  graduates  in  the  shape  of 
ignorant  and  sujierfieially  trained  young  men.  Few  are  younger 
than  twenty-three,  tlie  bulk  about  twenty-six  ;  and  more  than 
one  over  thirty.  Witli  but  few  execptions  all  of  them  go  to  swell 
the  I'anks  of  unskilled  labour. 

The  task  the  Japanese  student  has  before  him  in  order  to 
graduate  from  any  of  the  pi'incij)al  imiversities  and  higher 
cdueational  institutions  is  not  so  nuieh  that  of  absorbing  the 
necessary  knowledge  to  pass  out  as  that  of  memorisiyig  the 
lleee^sal•y  data.  The  foi'iner  task  is  seldom  aeeomplished  ;  the 
latter  feat  seems  the  only  essential  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jajjanese 
edueational  world.  Whilst  doing  this  the  student  dissipates 
five  or  more  of  his  most  valuable  years — ^and  health  ! 

The  sacrihec  of  health  is  enormous.  The  unhealthy  appearance 
of  the  average  student  I  met  in  Tokio,  so  often  bespeetaeled  at 
an  early  age,  testifies  only  too  faithfully  to  the  truth  that  the 
youth  of  Japan  is  steadily  burning  the  candle  at  both  ends.  The 
early  deaths  of  so  many  of  them,  tlie  steady  deterioration  in  the 
nation's  ])hysique,  is.  I  think,  mainly  due  to  this  high  pressui'e 
of  education,  coupled  with  an  insufficiency  of  nourishing  food. 
In  the  Consci'iption  Levy  of  1911  three  himdred  and  niiiety- 
seven  recruits  were  rejected  out  of  one  thousand  ;  and  only 
forty  per  cent,  were  })assed  as  physically  fit.  Consumption  is 
increasing  and  the  death-i-ate  rising. 

This,  then,  is  the  toll  modern  education  is  demaiidiiig  fi-om 
Japan,  the  true  meaning  of  which  she  seem>  to  \v,i\q  altogethci' 
lost  sight  of  in  her  desiic  to  be  up-to-date. 

Some  extiaets  from  a  letter  I  wrote  to  my  brother  fi'om 
Japan  after  some  months'  residence  in  Tokio  may  be  of 
interest  : 

"Saizoix  Teiniple.  TERAMAcni.  Tokio. 
"15^/^  July  1908. 
"  AIv  DEAR  I^RXEST.  — Mv  last   cpistlc  gavc   you    a   detailed 
account   nf  mv  ex]jci'iciic(s  as  a  saik^r  in  a   "  coinn-^hi])."  This 

136 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN— THE  JAPANESE 

one  is  to  be  an  attempt  to  describe  to  you  my  life,  my  doings 
and  my  impressions  in  the  land  of  tlie  Rising  Sun. 

"Firstly,  as  to  my  residences  of  which  I  have  had  a  great 
number.  I  have  tried  most  places,  from  a  boarding-house  in 
Kandabashi^ — tlie  student  quarter  of  Tokio- — at  Yl.50  (3s.)  per 
day,  to  a  room  over  a  greengrocer's  shop,  or  its  Japanese  equi- 
valent, in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  at  Yl.OO  a  day.  This  of  course 
included  food  a  la  Japonnais — ever\i;liing,  from  stewed  octopus 
to  raw  seaweed.  All,  however,  were  too  expejisive  for  my  frugal 
means,  for  I  am  saving  to  go  to  Korea  and  Manchuria.  Hence 
my  present  abode — a  Buddhist  temple,  which  when  all  is  said 
and  done  is  as  good  a  d\vclling  as  any  in  which  I  have  yet  laid 
my  head.  And  iL  is  very  peaceful.  I  pay  thirteen  yen  a  month, 
which  being  interpreted  into  English  coin  of  the  realm  is  26s. 
This  sum  includes  a  Japanese  breakfast  {asameslii)  and  suppei- 
{bamaeshi).  You  may  possibly  conclude  from  this  letter  that  I 
am  by  now  a  fluent  Japanese  scholar.  Far  from  so  ;  but  I  have 
;icquired  just  enough  of  the  colloquial  language  to  get  about,  and 
to  make  my  extra  stupid  nesan  (servant  girl)  understand  the 
Jiecessity  to  take  away  my  dij-ty  linen  to  the  wash  instead  of 
sending  the  few  clean  shirts  I  still  possess.  Some  of  the  lower 
classes  in  Japan  do  not  seem  too  richlyendowed  with  intelligeiice. 

"Well,  here  am  I  at  the  present  moment  writing  you  this  lettei', 
seated  like  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  or  as  near  the  uncomfortable 
position  as  I  can  get,  in  the  back  rooin  of  a  Buddhist  temple, 
facing  a  rather  pretty  little  pond  in  which  big  goldfish  are 
swimming  about.  I  offendetl  the  old  guardian  of  the  temple 
yesterday  by  suggesting  I  woidd  like  one  of  those  fine,  fat  fish 
fried  for  my  breakfast.  The  sense  of  humour  in  some  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  land  is  not  what  you  would  call  highly  de- 
veloped. The  old  priest  and  I  are  great  pals,  none  the  less.  I 
walk  into  the  temple  whenever  I  please,  though  of  course  I  pay 
the  same  respect  that  I  would  to  a  church.  The  old  chap  reminds 
me  of  the  smug  parson  at  home — has  a  nice  soft  job  and  doesn.'t 
care  whether  it  snows  !  Buddhism  in  Japan  to-day  seems  to  me 
to  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  the  intellectual  Japanese  as 

^37 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

our  modern  dogmatic  Christianity  does  to  the  intellectual  public 
of  the  West. 

"  I  am  giving  up  seeking  for  romance  in  Japan  !  Only  the  re- 
sonant and  sonorous  boom  of  my  temple  bell  bi-eaking  on  some 
of  my  solitary  hours  affects  me  sentimentally.  It  has  a  practical 
use,  however,  as  it  wakes  me  up  in  the  early  morning.  Funeral 
ceremonies,  too,  now  and  then  break  on  the  quiet  calm  of  my 
home. 

"Romance  in  Japan  is  a  false  alarm.  Lafcadio  Hearn  in  his 
books  supplied  himself  the  romance  he  attributed  to  this  country 
from  his  own  acutely  sensitive  imagination.  All  his  beautifully 
tinted  pictures  were  false  ;  and  before  he  died  he  realised  the 
fact.  Fifty  years  ago  there  may  have  been  lomance  in  Japan. 
I  cannot  find  it  to-day  ;  though  I  am  always  looking.  Instead  I 
find  a  hybrid  land  with  a  hybrid  people.  Always  I  am  saying  to 
myself  now — I  am  born  fifty  years  too  late  !  Everywhere  I  have 
yet  gone  I  have  met  the  one  companion  who  is  ever  faithful — 
Disillusion  !  Fancy  coming  to  Japan  for  romance  ! 

"  If  you  came  to  this  land  to  learn  how  to  get  rich  quickly  ; 
if  you  came  to  find  beautiful  spots  desecrated  by  the  ugliest 
specimens  of  twentieth-century  ideals — advertisements  !;  if  you 
came,  I  say,  for  such  purposes,  brother  mine,  then  you  will  find 
what  you  seek — here  ! 

"Cannot  you  imagine  the  despair  and  the  almost  murderous 
hatred  that  must  be  in  the  hearts  of  the  old  Japan-Japanese 
towards  the  West,  when  he  sits  and  sadly  gazes  on  what  is — in 
the  eyes  of  the  West — the  material  progress  of  Japan,  but  in  his 
eyes  the  slow  decay  of  his  country  and  of  his  countrymen  ;  the 
slow  death  of  the  nation's  ideals  and  honour  ;  the  slow  passing 
away  of  the  Japan  of  wliicli  he  was  a  part.  I  sometimes  wonder 
whether  Japan  fifty  years  hence  will  not  curse  the  day  that  she 
chose  to  become  a  first-class  power  and  miserable  and  did  not 
remain  a  sixth-class  power  and  happy.  But  I  suppose  the  change 
was  inevitable.  Evolution  must  go  on. 

"  lam  now  a  Professor— we  are  all  professors  in  this  land — a 
teacher  of  English  in  one  of  the  Tokio  universities  and  in  some 

i'.8 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN— THE  JAPANESE 

of  the  schools.  I  am  secretly  rather  proud  of  a  letter  I  have 
just  received  addressed  to  Professor  Arthur  Ridger,  Esq. 
That's  me  ! 

"  To  teach  in  Japanese  schools  you  must  not  drop  more  than 
three  '  h's  '  in  one  sentence  ;  further,  if  your  students  do  not 
want  to  work,  or  to  learn  English,  you  must  on  no  account 
attempt  to  persuade  them.  To  do  so  is  a  breach  of  etiquette, 
as  they  might  get  quite  offended,  which  would  mean  an  empty 
class-room,  and  incidentally  the  sack — a  thing  to  be  avoided. 
A  master's  position  here  rests  on  the  verdicts  of  his  students  ! 

"  I  had  at  first  some  difficulty  in  getting  a  position  owing  to 
my  arrival  in  the  middle  of  a  term,  and  I  had  only  three  pounds 
left  between  me  and  starvation  when  I  obtained  the  billets  I 
now  hold.  I  received  numerous  promises  amounting  in  salary 
to  somewhere  near  a  thousand  yen  a  month.  The  jobs  that 
materialised  from  these  promises  bring  me  in  Y150  per  month — 
a  slight  difference  !  This  is  a  great  country  for  promises  ! 

"  I  get  on  very  well  with  all  my  students.  They  are  very  diligent 
and  hard-working  and  extremely  courteous  ;  but,  poor  devils, 
they  are  shockingly  overworked.  The  whole  country  is  educa- 
tion mad,  and  the  teachers,  system  mad  !  The  schools  are  turning 
out  thousands  of  crammed  youths,  crammed  with  unassimilated 
facts  and  data  ;  crammed  youths,  physically  weakened  and 
mentally  stupefied  !  This  is  what  modern  '  Education  '  is  doing 
for  Japan  :  modern  '  Education  '  that  Ruskin  says,  '  for  the 
most  part  signifies  giving  people  the  faculty  of  thinking  wi'ong 
on  every  conceivable  subject  of  importance  to  them.' 

"  I  never  attempt  to  ask  the  students  to  prepare  any  work  for 
me  beforehand.  I  only  try,  by  interesting  them,  to  get  them  to 
speak  English  as  much  as  possible.  As  it  is,  the  conversation  of 
the  class  is  generally  limited  to  one  or  two  of  the  clever  students, 
the  bulk  remaining  silent. 

"I  teach  in  the  mornings  only  ;  and  now  and  then  in  the 
evenings.  My  afternoons  I  spend  in  the  dojo  (wrestling  hall) 
practising  judo,  or  jujutsu,  as  it  is  more  popularly  known  at 
home.  I  am  still  as  keen  as  ever  I  was  in  London,  for  the  exercise, 

139 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

apart  from  its  other  aspects,  is  so  splendid.  I  am  now  the  proud 
possessoi-  of  the  browii  belt.  Olr  !  that  I  were  a  black  belt.^ 

"Duri]ig  my  unoeeiipied  cveniiigs  I  pro^^■l  round  the  streets 
and  byways  of  Tokio,  watching  the  goings-on  and  doings  of  the 
))ees  in  the  busy  hive.  One  gets  in  this  way  a  good  insight  into 
the  inner  life  of  a  country.  One  learns  thus  more  of  the  customs, 
ideas  and  sentiments  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  country  in  six 
moiiths  than  does  the  average  resident  in  Yokohama  in  six 
years. 

''I  have  visited  Yokohama  a  few  times.  Beyond  seeing  the 
way  the  '  Tired  Titans  of  Coimnei'ce  ' — i.e.  the  residents  of  that 
treaty  poit — spend  tlieir  time  and  money  I  have  not  seen  nmch 
to  attract  me.  It  is  a  hybrid  town  :  half-foreign  and  half- 
Japanese.  It  is  on  these  poj-ts  that  the  inane  drivel  you  must 
have  read  in  so  jnany  books  is  based  by  their  authors.  The 
Japanese,  in  my  opinion,  arc  very  unwise  not  to  I'calise  the 
harm  done  by  these  books.  They  still  welcome  them ;  but  they 
will  learn  ! 

•'I  thought  befo]-e  I  came  to  this  country  that  every  other 
woman  was  shameless.  Having  lived  here  six  months  I  honestly 
think  there  is  no  more  immorality  in  Japan  than  thei'e  is  in  any 
other  counti'y  ;  at  least,  I  have  not  yet  observed  it  if  there  is. 
Thci'c  is,  however,  certainly  fai'  less  mock-modesty  in  Japan 
than  there  is  in  the  West.  But  that  is  a  matter  for  comnuiidation 
rather  than  condemnation.  This  openness  and  lack  of  false  shame 
is  a  good  sign,  and  one  that  suggests  a  healthy  mora!  atmosphere. 
Another  fallacy  I  have  detected  is  tli;!i  evei'v  geisha  is  a  woman 
of  easy  virtue. 

'•  If  you  were  to  ask  me  what  I  thought  of  the  Jajiancsc  I  could 
not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  you.  At  eleven  in  the  jnorning  I  might 
tell  you  '  Oh,  splendid  people  ! "  At  noon  I  mighl  say  :  '  Heavens  ! 
don't  ask  me  !  '  The  country  is  sim])ly  full  of  different 
types  of  peo])le  ;  it  is  impossible  to  gejieralisc.  You  will  go 
along  and  meet  a  ehai'ining  Japanese  wlio  will  be  so  kind  and 
sympathetic  to  you — -a  young  stranger  in  his  laiid — that  you 

'  ^eL■  Cluiplrr   X  I. 
140 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN     THE  JAPANESE 

will  feel  ready  to  guarantee  the  nation.  And  you  will  then  go 
another  hundred  yards  and  meet,  perhaps,  one  of  the  worst 
types  of  Japanese  the  new  regime  has  produced — and  some  of 
them  are  pretty  bad  !  To  give  you  an  instance  of  the  latter  : 

'"A  little  time  back  I  called  on  one  man,  an  English-speakijig 
Japanese  and  a  teacher  of  some  ability  in  a  night-school,  though 
his  students  were,  I  should  imagine,  chiefly  of  the  'rickshaw- 
coolie  type.  I  approached  him  for  a  billet ;  but  all  I  could  extract 
from  him  were  his  inflated  ideas  of  his  knowledge  of  English  and 
of  his  importance  in  his  own  eyes.  I  let  him  go  on  for  a  little. 
He  sho>ved  me  some  awful  doggerel  he  had  written,  thinking  it 
poetry  ;  but  when  lie  told  me  that  he  had  a  gi-eater  acquaintance 
of  English  than  had  the  average  Britisher,  I  lost  all  patience — 
and  then  and  there  let  rip  all  I  thought  of  him  and  all  I  didn't. 
There  are  limits  !  Between  you  and  me  I  was  half  inclined  to 
agree  with  him  as  regards  his  statement  about  loiowing  more 
P^nglish  than  the  average  Britisher  ;  for  we  egregious  English 
know  more  about  football  than  the  intricacies  of  our  language. 
It  was  the  poetry,  however,  that  got  on  my  nerves.  I  will  give 
you  two  lines  of  it  :  one  though  will  be  more  than  enough  ! 

'  To  arms  !  To  arms  !  The  foemen  come, 
The  foemen  come  to  make  it  hum  !  - 

•'  I  might  just  add  that  I  didn't  get  a  billet  in  that  school. 

"Thus,  you  see,  life  in  Japan  is  such  a  mixture  and  so 
com})lex  that  you  barely  know  yom-  mind  from  one  day's  end  to 
another.  Still  on  the  whole  the  Japanese  are  a  very  human  and 
delightful  jx'ople  ;  and,  certainly,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  they 
Ijavc  been  evei'ything  that  is  nice  and  kiiid  to  me. 

"Despite  this,  if  ever  I  write  about  the  Japanese,  I  will  not 
deuionsti'atc  my  gratitude  for  kindnesses  received  by  donning 
the  cloak  of  Ananias,  by  lavishing  fulsome  flattery  on  their  heads 
and  by  magnifying  theij-  vii'tues.  I  will  pen  what  I  think  is  the 
ti'uth  :  and  by  so  doing  I  shall  accomplish  some  little  good — if 
only  by  preventing  the  inevitable  disappointment  that  awaits 
the  visitor,   who  for  the  most  })art  imagines  Japan  to  be  a 

141 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

fairyland  peopled  by  a  race  of  demigods,  instead  of  a  very 
human  land  with  a  very  human  people.  No  country  has  been 
more  lied  about  than  Japan  ! 

"  That  the  Japanese  are  a  patient  and  long-suffering  people  you 
would  not  doubt  for  a  moment  if  you  saw  the  awful  state  of 
overcrowding  that  daily  goes  on  in  the  trams  of  Tokio.  I  really 
think  that  the  directors  of  the  tram  company  must  be  fossils  of 
the  Shogun  Age.  Day  after  day,  month  after  month,  the  same 
disgraceful  state  of  affairs  goes  on— a  discredit  to  a  large  city 
like  Tokio.  Trams,  mostly  the  size  of  hen-roosts,  pass  by  one 
crowded  from  the  front  to  the  back  with  people  hanging  on  to  the 
rails  by  tlieir  eyebrows,  always  leaving  behind  a  little  group  of 
weary  souls  whij  eventually  give  up  hope  and  plod  home  on  foot  ; 
or,  if  they  can  afford  it,  by  'rickshaw.  But  money  is  not  so 
plentiful  to-day  in  this  land  of  depression  and  taxes  !  The 
patience  of  the  crowded-up  passengers  and  the  smiling  courtesy 
and  long-sufferance  of  the  little  conductor,  as  he  collects  the 
fares,  are  so  admirable  !  If  I  were  one  of  them  it  would  not  be 
long  before  I  engineered  a  strike  and  got  those  obsolete  fossil- 
headed  directors  out  of  their  fat  jobs.  But  the  worm  will  turn 
yet  !  God  help  Japan  when  it  does  ;  for  she  will  need  help  ! 
Bureaucracy  and  Imperialism  ^  are  being  overdone  ;  and  when 
the  pendulum  starts  to  swing  back  there  will  be  trouble. 

"A  newspaper  here  has  paid  me  £lO  for  the  extract  of  my 
diary  from  London  to  Tokio,  and  they  are  writing  up  a  serial 
story  of  which  I'm  the  hero.  It  swells  my  little  capital,  as  also 
my  head.  The  former  now  amounts  to  five  hundred  yen — I  don't 
convert  it  into  pounds  as  it  sounds  more  in  yen.  I  have  not 
earned  quite  all  of  it,  for  a  sporting  birthday  present  from  Mr 

T has  helped  to  swell  it  to  the  huge  proportions  it  has  now 

attained.  It's  to  take  me  to  Korea  and  Manchuria. 

"A  little  time  ago  I  passed  the  newspaper  ofhce,  where  I  saw 

the  hrst  issue  of  the  serial  story  they  are  making  out  of  my  diary 

exhibited  on  the  placard  outside.  ^ly  photograph  was  there 

also.  Quite  a  little  crowd  of  admiring  Japanese  was  around.  I 

'  See  Chapter  XL     By  Imperialism  I  mean  Emperor-worship 

142 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN— THE  JAPANESE 

looked  at  the  paper — it  was  in  Japanese  so  I  couldn't  read  it — 
and  I  looked  at  the  people.  Then  in  an  awed  whisper  to  myself 
I  said  :  '  Here  is  fame  at  last  !  '  Having  reached  in  my  mind 
the  point  where  there  seemed  nothing  much  more  worth  living 
for,  a  sympathetic  friend  informed  me  of  the  contents.  There- 
upon I  fled  and  hid  my  face  for  shame.  Out  of  the  brief 
extracts  of  my  diary  concerning  my  departure,  which  consisted 
of  the  date  I  left  England  and  of  the  date  that  I  arrived  at  St 
Vincent  Island,  the  reporter  had  written  three  columns,  contain- 
ing everything  from  my  sobbing  in  the  arms  of  the  captain  on 
leaving  home  to  falling  overboard  and  swallowing  a  shark,  or  the 
shark  swallowing  me,  I  forget  w^hich.  I  have  practised  judo  from 
then  even  more  steadily  than  before  ;  for  I  am  looking  for  that 
reporter. 

"  I  have  received  one  or  two  letters  from  young  Japanese  from 
various  parts  of  the  country  as  a  result  of  these  newspaper 
articles.  One  of  these  letters  informed  me  that  the  writer  felt 
himself  inspired  by  the  account  of  my  thrilling  doings,  and 
suggested  that  I  should  take  him  with  me.  It  was  rather  an 
amusing  request  seeing  how  I  am  situated  ;  but,  poor  youngster, 
I  fully  sxinpathised  with  him,  knowing  myself  full  well  what 
wanderlust  will  make  you  do. 

"  Strange  to  say  I  have  not  yet  felt  one  earthquake  since  I  have 
been  in  Japan.  The  country  is  not  living  up  to  its  reputation. 
It  may  be,  however,  that  I  sleep  through  them. 

"  WTiat  can  you  make  of  all  this,  brother  mine  ? 

"Arthur." 

The  last  question  in  my  letter  I  ask  my  reader  also,  with  the 
hope  that  he  may  have  gleaned  a  glimpse  of  my  doings  whilst 
in  the  capital. 

At  the  end  of  the  summer  term  1  resigned  my  positions. 
Before  starting  again  on  ray  wanderings  I  spent  a  fortnight  at 
Hayama,  where  I  bathed  and  boated  to  my  heart's  content.  I 
could  vn-ito  a  chapter  on  those  two  vreeks  :  on  my  wanderings  in 
the  Io\-ely  country  round  Kamakura  just  clad  in  boft  kimona  ; 

143 


A  AVAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

on  my  swims  and  sailing  trips  in  and  out  of  the  inlets  and  bays. 
That  fortnight  of  simple  life  did  refresh  me  after  the  trying  humid 
heat  of  the  Tokio  simimer. 

It  was  the  end  of  July  when  I  left  Tokio  bound  for  fresh  woods 
and  pastures  new.  ^ly  capital  was  just  fifty  pounds. 

As  many  able  writci's  have  de])icted  the  sights  and  scenes  to  be 
witnessed  in  Kyoto  and  O^aka.  I  will  pass  quickly  on  to  Kobe 
where  I  caught  an  inland  sea  steamer  for  Moji.  After  the  rains 
the  country  was  looking  vciy  soft  and  gi'cen.  Between  Tokio 
and  Osaka  we  encircled  the  foot  of  the  sacred  mountain  Fuji  Saa, 
its  snow-ci-ested  sunnnit  shiniiig  white  in  the  sun's  rays. 

I  was  the  only  foreigner  on  board  the  Japanese  steamer  bound 
for  3Ioji,  but  I  was  surprised  to  hnd  so  many  of  the  officers  on 
board  had  a  working  knowledge  of  English.  Taken  on  the  whole, 
I  think  the  Japanese  are  to  be  sincerely  praised  for  the  effoi'ts 
they  have  made  and  their  com])arativc  success  in  comnumicating 
with  the  English-spcakijig  West.  I  will  not  tell  my  reader  that 
they  are  marvellous  linguists,  for  they  a;'e  not ;  but  m  comparison 
with  us  Englisji,  whose  linguistic  talents  are  all  but  atrophied 
from  disuse,  they  are. 

The  officers  were  all  exti'cmely  courteous  ;  and  this  I  have 
always  found  to  be  the  case  on  every  steamei',  whether  a  coal 
tramp  or  linci'.  llyii^g  the  pretty  mercantile  flag  of  Japan.  On 
the  other  hand  I  must  confess  that  I  have  observed  a  I'ather  too 
lax  state  of  discipline  on  many  Ja])anese  steamers,  the  quarter- 
mastei-  at  the  \\hecl  in  Dumy  iiistaneos  a])parent]\-  nf)t  thinking 
it  out  of  ])laee  to  join  in  a  eoii\'(M'--ation  that  may  be  going  on 
bet\\een  tlic  captain  and  one  oi'  his  ofiicers.  Tlie  fault,  of  course, 
lies  witli  the  offiecis.  I  ha^c-  n(/lieed  also,  that  though  the 
Japanese  ollieei'  is  an  excel  lent  navigator  and  a.  eompetcnit  sailor 
he  is  too  often  inclined  to  be  careless.' 

The  steamer  stopped  at  the  many  small  jjlaces  that  litter  the 

shoi'e->  of  tlie  Inland  Sea    -|)laecs  tourists  ne\(_'r  see.  travelling 

as  thev  inevitably  do  in  the  big  ]inc-r>  that  steani.  tluough  these 

^vatel■s  without  a  sto]>  at  seventeen  kjiols  an  hf)nr.  The  weather 

^  \\'licu  uJi  lac  cucisl  ui  Kurca  i  iiad  a  ^Arikin^  conln-mation  of  this  view. 

M4 


JaI'.W     aw    I-'E'IE 


'I'm:-:    i  \  i  \\  i  i   m.  \ 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  JAPAN— THE  JAPANESE 

Avas  pcii'ect,  being  hot  and  sunny  ;  and  the  miniature  scenery  of 
the  coast-land  was  indeed  picturesque.  It  looked  its  best  in  the 
warm  hght  of  the  sun.  Picturesque,  however,  as  is  the  scenery 
throughout  tlie  Inland  Sea,  to  say  that  it  is  the  prettiest  in  the 
world  is  to  my  mind  absolutely  incorrect.  I  suppose  we  must 
thank  some  of  those  hysterical  enthusiasts,  who  sprouted  up 
like  mushrooms  in  the  wake  of  Japan's  success  over  Russia  and 
who  even  attributed  to  the  Japanese  a  power  wholly  to  abrogate 
natural  laws,  for  the  extravagant  panegyi'ics  on  the  beauty  of 
the  Inland  Sea.^ 

At  daybreak  on  the  last  day  of  July  we  anchored  off  Moji. 
Moji  is  essentially  a  coaling  port,  yearly  growing  in  importance. 
Facing  Moji  is  the  .own  of  Shimonoseki,  the  scene  of  the  first 
foreign  treaty  with  Japan.  Many  deep-sea  steamers,  coasting 
craft  and  fishing  boats  lay  in  the  channel  as  we  anchored.  The 
steamers  were  being  coaled.  The  method  of  coaling  employed  is 
very  simple,  but  yet  effective,  thanks  to  the  cheapness  of  labour. 
Coal,  at  the  rate  of  thousands  of  tons  a  day,  is  poured  into  the 
bunkers  of  a  big  liner  by  the  simple  process  of  tiers  of  men  and 
women  passing  up,  hand  over  hand,  small  baskets  of  coal.  It  is 
as  picturesque  as  interesting  a  sight  to  watch  a  large  mail  steamer 
being  thus  coaled. 

I  made  but  a  short  stay  in  Moji,  and  on  the  following  evening 
embarked  on  one  of  the  Osaka  Sliosen  Kaisha  steamers  for 
Korea.  I  boarded  the  boat  some  hours  before  she  sailed  and 
watched  her  finishing  the  loading  of  her  cargo,  the  bulk  of  which 
was  Japanese  bazaar  goods.  Japanese  cigarettes  were  con- 
spicuous. 

A  twelve  hours'  passage  across  the  Tsushima  Straits  landed 
me  on  the  coast  of  the  mainland  of  Korea. 

^  I  would  rather  my  reader  said,  if  Fate  is  kind  enougli  to  give  him  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  Inland  Sea  :  "  It  is  far  more  beautiful  than  I 
was  led  to  think."  I  was  unfortunately  compelled  to  say  :  "  Lt  is  not  a 
tenth  as  beautiful  as  I  was  led  to  think." 


145 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN  IMPRESSION  OF  JAPANESE  SPORTS 

I  RECALL  a  Rugby  football  match  in  Tokio.  It  was  between 
the  team  of  Keio  University  and  a  "  fifteen  "  from 
Yokohama,  made  up  of  young  business  men,  mostly 
Englislimcn.  The  Yokohama  team,  it  is  almost  unnecessary  to 
say,  wc]e  quite  untrained,  as  the  life  led  by  the  average  business 
man  in  tlie  treaty  ports  of  Japan  is  hardly  conducive  to  keeping 
fit.  The  Keio  team,  on  the  other  liand,  were  as  hard  as  nails  from 
constant  practice,  and  the  majority  of  them  also  were  either 
rowing  or  judo  men.  The  result,  nevertheless,  was  a  win  for  the 
\Tsiting  team. 

The  cause  of  this,  apart  from  the  fact  that  the  Japanese 
are  still  more  or  less  tyros  at  tlie  game,  was  over-cautiousness. 
I  can  recall  sucii  a  number  of  openings  lost,  such  a  number  of 
opportunities  of  scoring  missed,  by  the  over-cautiousness  of  the 
Keio  tean:).  Their  "threes,"  comparatively  well  fed  by  their 
"halves,"  seemed  to  be  possessed  of  but  one  idea — of  finding 
touch  directly  they  got  the  bah.  None  of  them  evci'  attempted 
a  dash  for  the  goal  line,  and  tliey  seldom  ran  straight  o^-  gave 
their  '"  wings  "  a  sporting  ch.anee  to  do  something.  They  could 
not  see  that  offensive  tactics  arc  the  best  defence.  At  the  outset 
of  the  game  tlie  Japanese  team  settled  down  to  play  a  losing 
game,  the  ordei'  of  the  day  ap])arently  being  "  risk  nothing,  only 
ti'y  to  keep  tliera  out  of  your  '  t\veiity-li\'e.'  "  The  same  spirit, 
if  one  may  judge  from  accounts  of  observers,  was  apparent  in 
the  recent  war. 

Rugby  football  is,  notwithstanding,  innkiiig  headway  in  Tokio; 
but  I  fear  that  until  tlie  .J.'ipanese  ])layor  learns  that  he  must 
use  his   head  as   well    as    his  feet  the    Yokohama    "fifteen," 

146 


AN  IMPRESSION  OF  JAPANESE  SPORTS 

untrained  and  unfit  as  it  must  always  be,  will  never  have 
much  difficulty  in  defeating  the  best  team  Tokio  can  produce. 

Baseball  is,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  foreign  game  amongst 
the  young  of  Japan  to-day.  Judging  from  results  the  Japanese 
seem  to  have  a  special  aptitude  for  it,  as  many  of  the  American 
and  Hawaiian  teams  that  have  visited  Japan  have  been  defeated 
by  the  various  school  and  university  teams  of  Tokio. 

The  Japanese,  besides  having  thoroughly  mastered  the  rudi- 
ments of  this  American  game,  have,  further,  well  assimilated 
the  American  system  of  college  yells  and  "  rooting."  To-day  the 
technical  terms  of  football  as  well  as  baseball  come  very  pat  from 
the  mouths  of  both  players  and  spectators.  The  Rugby  phrases, 
"not  straight,"  "picked  out,"  "offside,"  etc.,  fall  as  glibly 
from  the  mouths  of  a  Japanese  "  fifteen  "  and  its  supporters  as 
from  those  of  an  English  team  and  crowd  at  Blacklieath. 

Tennis,  too,  is  very  popular  in  Japan  to-day.  I  was  leather 
sui'priscd,  however,  to  find  that  it  needed  almost  a  Herculean 
effort  to  knock  the  balls  out  of  the  court.  This  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  regulation  ball  is  but  seldom  used,  a  thin  rubber  one 
being  used  instead. 

Rowing  is  also  popular  amongst  Japanese  students,  and  many 
keen  contests  take  place  on  the  pretty  Sumida  River  of  which 
Tokio  is  justly  proud.  Unfortunately  the  result  of  keen  contests 
is  often  a  free  fight.  It  seems  a  g^-cat  pity  that  fi-iction  should 
enter  into  play  in  Japan.  Rioting  occurs  very  frequently  after  a 
big  game  in  Tokio.  Indeed,  to  such  a  degree  lias  the  bad  feeling 
between  two  of  tiie  leading  universities  in  Tokio  gi-own  that  the 
authorities  have  been  compelled  to  put  a  stop  to  matches,  or 
contests  of  any  description,  between  them  to  avoid  bad  blood, 
fi'ee  fights  and  general  rioting. 

This  unsportsmanlike  spirit  is  to  l^e  regretted  ;  but  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  it  is  only  of  a  temporary  Jiatnre.  Japanese 
sense  of  fair  play  is  by  no  means  deficient,,  as  is  clearly  seen  in 
the  playing  of  their  own  national  games  ;  for  no  people  could 
be  more  scrupulously  honourable  than  the  Japanese  in  tliese 
circumstances.    The   rather  unsportsmanlike  spirit    noticeable 

147 


A  \vandp:rer's  trail 

iji  the  playing  of  foreign  games  is,  I  think,  due  to  the  incoiyiplete 
assimilatio]!  of  the  new  with  tlie  spirit  of  the  old. 

Everywhere  in  Japan,  and  in  To  lei  o  })artieularly,  an  observant 
resident  can  see  illustrations  of  the  transition  stage  through 
which  the  country  is  passing.  The  Avorst  enemy  of  Japan  could 
not  deny  that  the  Japanese,  from  the  aristocrat  to  the  coolie, 
are  a  very  courteous  race,  and  innately,  not  superficially  so,  as 
is  sometimes  suggested.  I  am  referring,  of  eoui-se,  to  the  polite- 
ness of  one  Japanese  to  anothei-,  and  not  to  the  attitude  of  a 
Ja])anese  to  a  foi-cignei-.  On  moi-e  than  one  occasion  I  have  had 
the  rather  UTUisual  privilege  of  living  in  the  house  of  a  Japanese 
family.  Thei'e  I  have  witnessed  the  extreme  courtesy  eveiy 
inember  of  the  family  extended  to  anothei',  the  courtesy  with 
Avhieli  the  master  of  the  house  treated  the  'rickshaw  coolie,  the 
courtesy  of  the  little  daughtci"  to  her  playmate  next  door. 
Hcjicc,  thougji  I  know  that  many  do  not  hold  the  same  opinion 
but  consider  the  courtesy  of  the  Japanese  to  be  mainly  super- 
ficial. I  maintain  that  the  Japanese  are  most  courteous  people, 
]hit  in  a  tramcar  or  in  a  train,  foreign  innovations,  one  sees 
quite  a  diffeitnit  state  of  affairs  and  witnesses  plenty  of  dis- 
coiutesy  and  rudeness.  This  in  my  mind  is  solely  due  to  the 
incomplete  l)lcnding  of  the  s])irit  of  the  old  with  the  conditions 
of  the  new.  Unfortvmately  foi-  Japaii  the  spots  where  the  visitor 
and  tourist  obtain  their  impressions  of  Japan  and  of  Japanese 
are  where  foi-eign  innovations  are  most  in  evidence.  Few  re- 
sidents and  still  fewer  visitors  enjoy  the  privilege  of  dwelling 
in  a  Japanese  gentleman's  house  as  a  guest,  and  it  is  really  only 
froin  the  home  life  of  a  nation  that  true  impressions  can  be 
formed. 

True  Japanese  sportsmanship  can  be  seen  in  any  of  the 
national  games,  such  as  jujutsu  (wrestling),  kenjuisu  (fencing), 
kiujuUu  (archery).  Also  in  sumo,  another  form  of  wi-estliiig 
moi-e  ])opular  amongst  the  lowei-  clnsses.  I  have  witnessed  many 
competitions  in  these  games,  and  have  had  many  a  bout  at  ju- 
jutsu  ;  and  have  only  the  greatest  admiration  for  the  honourable 
conduct  displayed  and  for  the  spirit  of  fair  play  that  prevailed. 

148 


A\    v.\'v.]<\:<\\   -I  i:m-:   in    Iatax 


I  \i'  \\  \.-i.   W'  i\ii 


AN  IMPRESSION  OF  JAPANESE   SPORTS 

It  is  in  these  sports  that  one  can  see  the  true  spirit  of  the 
Japanese  sportsman. 

Judo  is  the  modern  and  imjiroved  jujutsu — the  sport  of  the 
Samurai.  Some  twenty  years  ago  a  certain  Dr  Jigoro  Kano, 
after  having  studied  all  the  different  forms  of  jujutsu  in  various 
parts  of  Japan,  founded  the  Kodo-Kwan  of  Tokio,  which  is 
to-day,  one  might  say,  the  university  of  judo.  Kano's  style  of 
wrestling — i.e.  judo — was  the  outcome.  Dr  Kano  was  recently 
decorated  by  the  Emperor  of  Japan  for  his  services  to  his 
country  ;  and  no  Japanese  deserves  greater  honour. 

The  Kodo-Kwan  still  adheres  strictly  to  the  old  customs 
and  etiquette  of  the  Samurai  age,  and  the  degi-ees  awarded  to 
its  members  are  hall-marks  throughout  the  whole  length  of 
Japan  of  their  skill  in  judo  ;  and,  what  is  more  important  still, 
of  their  moral  character.  There  are  many  degrees  of  excellence. 
Roughly  speaking,  there  are  three  distinct  classes,  each  class 
distinguished  by  a  different  coloured  ohi  or  belt.  The  highest 
class  is  the  yudansha  class.  Its  members  wear  a  black  belt.  This 
class  has  seven  ranks,  the  highest  being  shichidan  (+  7).  Of 
this  rank  there  are  only  two  or  three  in  all  Japan.  Of  the  rank 
below — rokudan  ( +  6) — there  are  not  more  than  a  dozen.  The 
lower  ranks  in  this  class  are  godan  (+  5),  yodan  (+  4),  sandan 
(+  3),  nidan  (+  2).  The  lowest  rank  is  shodan  (+  1).  The  one 
who  has  gained  the  rank  of  shodan  is  qualified  to  become  a 
teacher.  Twelve  hundred  would,  I  think,  more  than  total  all 
the  holders  of  the  black  belt.  The  class  below  the  rank  of  shodan 
is  the  muyudansha  class,  which  is  divided  into  two  separate 
divisions,  the  members  of  each  wearing  a  different  coloured  ohi. 
The  higher  class  wear  a  brown  ohi,  the  lower  a  white  one. 
The  muyudansha  class,  like  the  yudansha  class,  is  divided  into 
various  ranks,  the  highest  being  ikkyu  (  -  1),  the  lowest  rokukyii 
(-6).  When  the  student  reaches  the  rank  of  sanyku  (-3),  he 
discards  the  white  belt  in  favour  of  the  brown  and  his  name  is 
then  recorded  on  a  small  wooden  tablet  affixed  to  the  walls  of 
the  wrestling  hall,  to  remain  there  for  the  edification  of  posterity. 

I  seem  to  remember  a  popular  fallacy  prevalent  at  home  with 

149 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

regard  to  this  wrestling — that  every  Japanese  one  meets  is,  more 
or  less,  a  judo  expert.  This  is  totally  incorrect.  Till  a  student 
reaches  the  ijudansha  class,  or,  in  other  words,  till  he  gains  the 
right  to  wear  the  black  belt,  he  is  no  expert.  Till  he  gains  the 
black  belt  he  is  not  even  qualilicd  to  teach.  Judo  experts  are  as 
I'are  in  Japan  as  expert  boxers  ai'e  in  any  Western  nation.  To 
acquire  the  skill  necessa:y  to  become  a  teacher  one  needs  lour 
oi'  hve  years  of  liard  practice.  There  is  no  royal  road,  no  short 
cut,  to  become  a  skilled  jiijutsu  wrestlei'.  as  many  at  home  ^eem 
to  think.  Judo  is  no  occult  secret,  though  I  NS'ould  not  infer  that 
jndo  has  not  its  occult  side.  It  has. 

The  etiquette  of  the  Kodo-Kwan  is  very  strict.  Students  in 
Japanese  clothes  can  never  enter  its  doors  unless  wearing  their 
hakama  (di\'ided  skirts).  No  student  would  dream  of  starting 
wi'e.^tling  till  lie  had  made  his  obeisance  before  the  photograph 
of  Dr  Kano  which  hangs  over  the  dais  of  the  dojo  ;  nor  would  he 
be  permitted  to  start  wi'estling  before  he  had  bowed  ceremoni- 
ously to  his  opponent.  The  greatest  respect  is  paid  to  any  of  the 
yudansha  class. 

On  my  joining  the  Kodo-Kwan  I  had  to  comply  with  an  old 
Sanmrai  ceremony  of  presenting  two  fans.  I  had  also  to  sign  my 
name  in  blood  to  a  declaration  to  abide  faithfully  by  the  lules 
of  the  Kodo-Kwan  and  not  to  disclose  an\i:hing  I  might  learn 
within  its  walls. 

At  fixed  periods  of  the  year  shobus  (tournaments)  are  licld, 
when  pi'omf>tion  is  decided  upon.  Tlu-  um]:)irc's  decision  is  irre- 
vocable ;  arc!  I  do  not  thi]ik  tlure  li^■(^>  a  student  i)i  all  Ja])an 
who  would  di'cam  of  disputing  a'ay  decision.  The  spirit  of  bushido 
is  seen  at  it>  best  within  the  walls  of  the  Kodo-Kwan. 

Tlie  judo-iiicncd  Jaj)a]if*--e  is  Jiead  and  siioulde.s  supei'ior. 
morallv.  ])liy-ical]y  and  meritally  to  the  fhit-chested,  })e- 
s])eetac]ed.  s])r)ity-face(l.  weed\"  t^i^e  of  youth  \^ho  talks  glibly 
of  economics  and  internationnl  law  and  is  being  turned  out  in 
thousands  by  the  schools  and  univeisitifs  of  Japan  to-day. 
The  ??f do-man  is  a  man  :  but,  alas  !  he  is  scarce.  I  have  met  him 
abroad  as  a  na\jgatoj'.  as  a  soldiei',  as  a  coloniser,  and  liave  the 

150 


AN  IMPRESSION  OF  JAPANESE  SPORTS 

liig]iest  respect  for  him.  Would  he  were  counted  in  his  thousands 
instead  of  in  liis  tens.  Japan  needs  more  judo  and  less  economics 
in  the  national  training. 

I  happened  once  to  be  on  a  Japanese  coal  tramp.  On  the  ship 
was  a  young  Japanese  clerk.  We  had  coal  on  the  decks  in  abund- 
ance. I  suggested  an  hour's  shovelling  coal  every  day  to  keep 
fit.  He  replied:  "Ah,  the  principle  is  good  but  .  .  .  etc."  I 
shovelled  coal ;  he  studied  econoiiiics.  I  kept  fit,  he  got  jaundice. 
Exactly  the  same  in  life.  We  Britishei's  may  not  be  so  pat  in 
enunciating  pi-inciples  and  theories,  but  we  do  keep  fit.  Japan's 
young  men  will  quote  you  Stuart  Mill  for  an  hour  and  have 
chronic  indigestion  ! 

A  rather  startling  fact  came  to  my  notice  not  long  ago.  One 
of  the  largest  commercial  houses  in  Japan  lost  the  huge  sum  of 
nearly  one  million  yen  in  one  year  through  numerous  em- 
bezzlements at  their  various  branches.  When  it  is  further 
mentioned  that  this  firm  recruit  all  its  employees  from  the 
highest  educational  institutions  of  the  country,  it  should  make 
the  thoughtful  person  stop  and  ponder.  The  average  clerk  in 
Japan  starts  his  career  to-day  full  of  ambition,  and  very  properly 
so ;  but  too  often  imbued  with  the  idea  of  getting  on — honestly 
if  he  can.  In  the  modern  get-rich-quick  atmosphere  of  Japan 
such  a  spirit,  without  the  restraining  influence  of  a  "  play  the 
game  "  spirit,  is  a  dangerous  one  to  hold.  Also  the  inadequate 
salary  paid  to  the  clerk,  in  no  way  commensurate  with  the  ever- 
increasing  expense  of  living,  is  another  source  of  danger — an 
ever-present  inducement  for  the  yomigman  to  start  speculation, 
his  first  step  downwards.  Healthy  sport  is  one  of  the  best  sheet- 
anchors  for  the  voimcf  man — of  the  East  or  West. 


151 


CFIAPTER    XI  r 

SOME  exp?:ktf.xc'ES  in  kokea 

I  ENTERED  Korea  at  Fusan,  one  of  the  principal  seaports 
of  the  peninsuhi.  Fiisan  liarboui"  is  j-eally  nothing  more 
than  a  deep  indentation  in  the  coast-land,  in  the  middle  of 
which  lies  Deer  Island.  It  is  capacious,  being  about  two  miles 
wide,  and  with  a  sufficient  depth  of  water  to  accommodate  the 
largest  vessels. 

Korea  at  the  moment  of  my  visit  was  ostensibly  an 
independent  kingdom,  though  under  the  protection  of  Japan; 
to-day,  of  course,  it  is  an  integral  part  of  that  country. 

On  landing  at  Fusan  I  found  the  traffic  on  the  railway  between 
the  port  and  the  capital,  Seoul,  entirely  suspended,  as  much  of 
the  ti-ack  had  been  damaged  by  floods  resulting  from  heavy 
rains.  Korea  yearly  suffers  great  loss  from  floods^ — the  inevitable 
result  of  the  wholesale  destruction  of  the  forests.  China  suffers, 
too,  in  many  parts  from  the  same  cause. 

Two  plans  lay  before  me  :  I  could  remain  in  Fusan  for  two  or 
three  days  till  the  railway  was  in  working  oi'dei'  again,  or  reach 
the  ca])ital  round  the  west  coast  on  a  small  coasting  steamer. 
The  latter  alternative,  though  entaili]ig  a  much  longer  journey, 
suited  me  veiy  well,  as  the  fare  was  much  ('hen])er.  I  ^\'as  ever  in 
the  position  of  having  moj'c  time  than  money.  This  j'oute  also 
gave  me  the  0])])oi'tunity  of  visiting  some  of  the  small  coast 
ports  lying  off  the  beaten  track.  So  I  booked  a  passage  in  one 
of  the  Osaka  Shosen  Kaisha's  coasting  steamers,  as  I  had  learnt 
by  experience  that  where  the  O.S.K.  Hag  ilew  I  should  lind 
comfoitable  quarters  and  good  attendance. 

We  sailed  on  the  same  evening,  skirting  the  south  and  south- 
western shoi'e-,  ol   Korea.  Foi'  the  mo>t  ])art  the\-  were  fringed 


SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  KOREA 

with  rocky  islands  and  reefs,  many  of  the  former  appearing  quite 
uninhabited.  In  parts  the  scenery  was  very  pretty,  some  of  the 
islands  being  thickly  clad  with  vegetation. 

We  anchored  off  our  first  poil  of  call- — -jVIokpo^ — -late  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  following  our  departure.  Mokpo  is  a  small 
port  on  the  river  Yong  San  Gang,  wliich  waters  the  Cluilla 
district~-one  of  the  wealthiest  in  Korea.  The  town  was  tj'pically 
Koiean.  It  was  surrounded  by  the  usual  city  wall  and  possessed 
its  two  settlements — that  of  the  Koreans  and  that  of  the 
Japanese.  The  up-to-date  and  cleanly  appearance  of  the  latter 
struck  me  very  forcibly  in  contrast  with  the  former,  in  which  the 
result  of  generations  of  corrupt  rule  was  clearly  seen. 

Save  for  a  lady  missionary  I  was  the  sole  foreigner  on  board. 
This  good  lady  was  kind  enough  to  teach  me  a  few  phrases  of 
the  Korean  language.  At  this  port  I  seized  the  opportunity  of 
trymg  the  few  words  I  had  learnt,  or  thought  I  had,  on  some 
of  the  peasants  I  met  in  the  fields  outside  the  town.  My 
salutations  elicited,  however,  no  response,  apparently  being 
perfectly  unintelligible  to  them.  Why  I  know  not  !  Unless  it  was 
my  Korean  was  too  haikara  ^  for  them,  as  the  Japanese  would 
say  ;  or  else  I  murdered  with  true  English  linguistic  stupidity 
the  few  phrases  I  had  learnt.  I  drew  blanks  every  time,  till  I 
gave  up  in  disgust. 

At  sundown  we  steamed  a^^'ay,  having  discharged  a  few  tons 
of  cargo,  chiefly  Japanese  bazaar  goods.  Another  missionary- — 
a  doctor — joined  the  ship  at  Mokpo  ;  so  there  were  now  three 
Europeans  on  board.  My  t^A'o  coinpanions  I  found  charming- 
people — much  to  my  surprise  ;  for  I  had  lived  too  long  in  Japan 
to  escape  the  generally  accepted  opinion  of  the  worth  of  a 
missionary. 

By  daybreak  on  the  next  day  we  were  anchored  off  Kunsan, 
situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  Yong  Dang.  It  was  at  tliis  port  that 
tJie  missionary  doctor  got  off,  and  he  very  kindly  invited  me 
to  visit  his  mission  station  whilst  the  ship  was  discharging.  I 

1  The  origin  of  this  word  is  "  high-collar/'  signifying  fashionablCj  smart, 
etc.  The  letter  "  1  "  is  ever  a  stunibhng-block  to  tlie  Orientah 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

gratefully  accepted  the  invitation.  Shortly  after  breakfast  we 
made  our  way  to  the  station  which  la}'  a  few  miles  outside  the 
town.  Each  of  us  took  turns  in  riding  the  slow  and  ancient 
Korean  pony  that  had  been  sent  down  to  meet  us.  We  passed 
through  the  little  town,  whicli  was  a  replica  of  Mokpo,  and 
wended  our  way  thiough  paddy-iields  till  we  reached  the  mission, 
which  was  situated  on  high  giound  overlooking  the  town.  After 
a  rest  and  a  chat  I  went  with  the  doctor  to  his  hospital.  Many 
Korean  villager's  of  all  t^-pes  were  awaiting  the  doctor's  arrival^ — ■ 
patients  who  had  come  for  treatment  for  every  complaint,  from 
a  skin  disease  to  a  cyst  on  the  eyelid.  I  watched  the  young 
doctor  tending  his  charges.  He  was  an  indomitable  worker,  but 
withal  a  cheery  one,  the  depressing  atmosphere  so  often  pre- 
valent in  such  places  and  in  such  surroundings  being  absent. 
Sympathy  and  good-will  were  there  instead. 

After  spending  the  day  at  the  Kunsan  Mission  Station  I  bade 
farewell  to  the  doctor  and  his  family  and  rode  the  mission's 
ancient  quadruped  back  to  the  ship.  We  sailed  late  in  the  after- 
noon for  Chemulpho.  AVe  expected  to  reach  this  port  within 
twenty-four  hours.  But  'Man  proposed  and  God  disposed, 
for  before  reaching  this  port  we  all  but  reached  another— that 
of  Davy  Jones  !  The  steamer  ran  her  nose  at  full  speed  on  a  rock 
— ^thanks  to  a  tliick  fog. 

A  great  element  of  carelessness,  however,  entered  into  this 
mishap.  I  had  been  with  the  captain  in  his  chart-room  when  he 
was  setting  his  course,  and  had  noticed  he  calculated  to  pass  the 
rocks  on  which  we  struck  three  miles  abeam.  He  I'cmarked  to 
me  on  what  a  strong  set  there  was  j'uniiing  to  the  eastward  off 
this  coast ;  in  some  cases,  he  said,  as  much  as  four  knots  an  h.our. 
TJie  knowledge  of  this  fact,  cou])led  with  a  change  in  the  weather, 
should  have  been  enough  to  cause  any  careful  iiavigator  immedi- 
ately to  put  the  ship  off  the  shore  so  as  to  be  certain  that  she 
would  pass  well  wide  of  the  land.  Apparently,  in  this  instance, 
no  precautions  were  taken  ;  hence  the  result. 

Fortunately  we  only  grazed  the  rocks.  Had  we  been  a  few 
more  Feet  to  stai'board  we  should  have  been  a  total  wreck  in  a 

154 


SOME  EXPERIENCES  IN  KOREA 

few  minutes.  As  it  was,  the  damage  was  limited  to  the  ripping  of 
a  few  plates.  Tlie  ship  was  immediately  aiieliored  and  we  waited 
for  the  clearing  of  the  weather. 

The  shock  of  the  ship  going  aground  nearly  threw  me  out  of 
my  bunk  ;  it  even  woke  me  up.  It  also  woke  the  Japanese 
captain  !  Rather  scantily  clad  I  went  on  deck  and  found  the  crew 
swinging  out  the  boats.  The  discipline  and  order  could  not  have 
been  better.  The  report  that  the  ship  was  only  making  a  few 
inches  of  water  an  hour  soon  convinced  us  that  there  was  no 
immediate  danger,  as  the  pumps  could  easily  keep  such  a  small 
inflow  in  check. 

Day  broke.  It  still  remained  foggy.  As  the  morning  grew  the 
weather  cleared,  and  by  noon  we  were  able  to  see  our  surround- 
ings and  realise  the  narrowness  of  our  escape.  The  ship  lay 
between  three  large  jagged  rocks  standing  well  out  of  the  water. 
Had  our  steamer  struck  any  of  these  full,  her  bows  would  have 
been  stove  in  and  she  would  have  sank  in  a  few  minutes. 

AVhen  the  weather  was  sufficiently  clear  we  weighed  anchor 
and  resumed  our  northerly  course  for  Chemulpho.  On  our  way 
we  passed  a  capsized  fishing  boat,  which  at  first  sight  looked 
like  a  dead  whale  adrift.  The  crew  mistook  it  and  were  delighted, 
for  to  tow  in  a  whale  meant  something  in  all  their  pockets.  On 
the  whale  materialising  into  a  capsized  fishing  boat  their  disgust 
was  as  great  as  their  foi-mer  jubilation. 

In  the  afternoon  fog  again  compelled  us  to  anchor.  It  was  a 
rather  strange  phenomenon — -this  heavy  mist  hanging  ovei-  the 
sea  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  warm  sun  was  shining 
brightly  over  our  heads.  But  this  is  not  an  unusual  occurrence 
off  the  coast  of  Korea,  the  cause  being  the  meeting  of  different 
currents  of  unequal  temperatures.  The  seas  here  need  very 
careful  navigation  and  are  rather  dreaded,  as  the  surveying  is 
incomplete.  The  currents,  also,  are  both  strong  and  erratic. 

We  reached  Chemulpho  by  midnight  after  having  stopped 
several  times  on  account  of  fog.  The  captain  was  taking  no 
more  chances  ! 

Only  very  light-draught  ships  can  enter  the  inner  anchorage 

^55 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

of  this  port  owing  to  the  enormous  rise  and  fall  of  the  tide  ;  the 
outer  one,  however,  can  accommodate  ships  of  all  sizes.  A  large 
barge  towed  by  a  tug  lauded  us  in  the  morning,  the  ship  lying 
about  three  miles  outside. 

Chemulpho,  or  Jinscn  as  the  Japanese  call  it.  is  the  principal 
seaport  of  Koi-ea.  It  is  also  the  port  of  the  capital,  lying  on  a 
small  tributaiy  of  the  Han,  or  Seoul  River.  In  apj^earance 
Chemulpho  is  similar  to  the  other  ports  in  the  south,  though  on 
a  rather  larger  scale.  Japanese  enterprise  was  aljundantly  in 
evidence,  and  nuist  be  still  inore  so  to-day. 

I  caught  an  early  morning  train  to  the  cajjital  passing  through 
well-cultivated  land.  The  soil  was  very  red  in  a])pearance.  Much 
of  the  land  alongside  the  railway  was  very  swampy.  These 
swamps,  I  was  told,  bi'ought  the  Japanese  engineers  to  grief 
when  they  were  laying  the  railway.  American  engineers  first 
surveyed  the  land  and  marked  out  the  best  route,  bearing  in  their 
experienced  minds  the  very  possible  danger  of  floods.  When  the 
Japanese  engineers  took  ovev  the  ]:> reposition  they  thought  they 
knew  bettei-  ;  they  discarded  the  well-chosen  path  selected  by 
the  former  surveyors  (who,  they  forgot,  came  from  a  country 
that  knows  nearly  the  lirst  and  last  trick  of  the  railway  ti'ade), 
and  they  laid  down  the  track  on  ground  which  certainly  looked 
suited  for  the  purpose.  The  result  was  })eriodieal  demolitions 
of  the  track  by  flood.  In  the  end  tlie  Japanese  were  ^vise  enough 
to  adopt  the  discarded  route. 

^^\  ])assed  numerous  small  villages,  sun'ouiided  by  fields  of 
melons,  or  perha])s  I  sliould  say  melon  ])atelu's,  tliat  being.  I 
Miink.  tlie  recognised  expi'cssion.  Some  oi'  the  inelon  vines  (?) 
wei'e  even  growing  on  tlie  thatched  roc^fs  oj'  the  houses  in  the 
villages.  A])pai-ently  the  various  owneis  of  these  "  ])atches  "" 
had  ]\()  great  faith  in  human  nature  or  in  the  honesty  of  their 
countr\'nien  ;  for  I  renuirk</d  in  the  llli(l^t  ol  each  sejxirate 
"  ])ateh  ""  there  ^vas  ei'ceted  a  small  ])oreh  whereon  a  wateli- 
man  sat  to  prevent  any  passer-by  from  waiidcM'ing  amongst  the 
melons  and  appro])riating  some. 

The  hiiih    mountains  overlooking  the  eajjital  soon  came  in 


so:\rE  experiexcp:s  in  korea 

sight,  some  of  thciii  rising  to  a  height  of  over  four  tliousaiid  feet. 
The  city,  encircled  by  its  old  wall,  lies  at  the  foot  of  these 
towering  hills.  After  a  journey  of  a  couple  of  hours  the  train 
deposited  us  by  the  south  gate. 

I  had  Ijrought  with  nie  from  Tokio  several  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  I'csidents  in  the  capital.  So  I  spent  the  fn-st  morning 
])resentino  my  credentials.  Amongst  those  I  met  that  day  was 
the  able  editor  of  the  Seoul  Press,  and  the  late  Mr  Ernest 
T.  Bethell,  who  was  then  the  editor  and  owner  of  the  Dai  Han 
Mai  II  Shimpo.^  Mr  Bethell,  with  that  charming  hospitality 
really  only  laiown  to  residents  east  of  Suez,  invited  me  to  be  his 
guest  just  so  long  as  I  remained  in  Seoul.  His  invitation  I  most 
gratefully  accepted  and  appreciated. 

I  had  intended  to  make  only  a  short  stay  in  Seoul,  but  circum- 
stances changed  my  plans.  I  was  asked  to  act  as  foreign  reviser 
to  the  Seoul  Press,  in  order  that  the  Englishman  acting  in  that 
capacity  might  take  a  short  holiday.  On  the  day  following  my 
arrival  I  took  up  my  duties  on  the  Japanese  newspaper  as 
locum  tenens  to  the  foreign  i-eviser. 

Mr  Bcthell's  house  was  the  most  picturesque  bungalow  in 
Seoul,  charmingly  situated  outside  the  city  wall.  It  stood  on 
very  high  ground  and  commanded  an  extensive  and  most  perfect 
view  of  the  surrounding  mountains  and  the  valley  at  the  foot. 
At  the  time  of  my  stay  the  house  was  watched  by  Japanese  spies. 

The  nights  in  Korea  at  this  time  of  the  year  are  singularly 
lovely.  Their  exquisite  calm  and  softness  remain  vividly  im- 
pressed on  my  memory.  I  recall  the  clear  starry  heavens  above 
us  as  we  lay  outside,  the  loity  mountains  silently  reminding  us 
of  their  presence.  From  the  village  that  nestled  in  the  valley  at 
our  feet  the  distant  sound  of  Korean  nmsic  faintly  reached  our 
ears,  the  softness  of  the  night  I'cndering  less  harsh  the  shrill 
falsetto  notes.  As  the  niglit  gj-ew  on  these  faint  noises  hushed. 
Soon  the  lights  of  the  village  twinkling  like  fireflies  in  tlie  dark- 
ness of  the  valley  woe  extinguished  oiie  by  one,  and  only  the 
deep  silence  remained. 

^  i'he  Korea  Daily  News. 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Though  my  stay  in  Seoul  was  of  only  three  weeks'  duration  I 
had  the  opportunity  of  meeting  many  of  the  residents  there.  I 
was  made  by  my  host  a  visiting  membei-  of  the  Seoul  Club,  one 
of  the  most  hospitable  clubs  I  have  ever  visited  in  the  East. 
From  the  members  I  received  the  utmost  kindness  and  considera- 
tion— consideration  for  my  youth,  as  well  as  for  my  limited 
finances.  I  appreciate  this  to-day  as  keenly  as  I  did  then  ;  for  I 
was  then  only  twenty-two  years  old  and  clubmen  as  a  rule  are 
not  eager  to  indulge  in  the  company  of  one  of  such  tender  years. 

During  my  stay  in  the  capital  I  made  some  very  enjoyable 
trips  round  the  mountains  and  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  A 
drive  through  the  Pekin  Pass  that  guards  the  old  highway  to 
Chijia  I'cvealed  some  most  beautiful  scenery.  A  severe  thu]ider- 
storm,  on  one  occasion,  caused  my  companions  and  myself  to 
seek  shelter  under  cover  of  the  Imperial  graves.  There  I  saw- 
some  superb  pieces  of  stone  carving.  Many  pieces,  however,  were 
missi]ig  ;  they  had  been  stolen  by  greedy  inhabitants. 

Koi'ca  has  fortunately  not  been  on  the  list  of  countries  to  be 
explored  by  the  tourist,  but  the  life  of  the  Korean  and  the 
sights  of  Seoul  befoi-e  the  Independence  of  the  Hermit  Kingdom 
passed  away  have  been  very  ably  dcsci-ibcd  by  several  autliors — 
so  well  indeed  that  I  will  not  attempt  to  add  my  impressions. 
The  following  chapter  will  give  ray  reader  a  brief  account  of  a 
phase  of  Korean  affairs  undcj'  the  Japanese  regime,  with  which 
I  was  in  a  small  way  connected. 


15^ 


CHAPTER    XIII 

IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  JAPANESE  REGIME  IN  KOREA 

AT  the  time  of  my  stay  the  bad  feeling  between  Japanese 
and  Korean  pervaded  tlie  whole  atmosphere.  The 
Koreans  alleged,  and  with  much  truth,  that  the  work 
and  industries  of  the  country  were  being  giadually  absorbed  by 
the  Japanese.  The  control  of  the  telegraph,  postal  and  custom 
services  had  already  passed  out  of  their  hands.  The  ginseng  crop 
(a  valuable  native  drug)  had  also  been  taken  over  by  the 
Japanese.  This  caused  widespread  discontent.  To  make  matters 
■worse  the  country  was  being  flooded  by  hundreds  of  Japanese 
coolies  and  adventurers  of  the  worst  t^^e,  these  latter  being 
found  to  no  small  extent  amongst  the  officials.  None  of  these 
undesirable  immigrants  were  actuated  by  any  motive  other 
than  that  of  exploiting  the  Korean  and  his  country.  In  fact, 
the  Koreans  said  truthfully  that  tlie  exploitation  of  Korea  was 
going  on  under  the  guise  of  a  Japanese  Protectorate. 

From  1905,  when  the  Protectorate  was  declared,  Japan  em- 
barked on  the  fatal  policy  of  introducing  a  military  administra- 
tion into  the  country.  She  followed  the  example  of  most  military 
nations  and  started  her  rule  over  the  tlien  not-unfriendly 
country  of  Koi'ea  by  adopting  the  "  mailed  fist  "  policy.  Instead 
of  coming  at  the  outset  v.'ith  outstretelied  hands  and  approach- 
ing the  Koreans  in  a  spirit  of  friendship  and  good-will  and 
appealing  by  that  spirit  to  tlie  liigher  nature  of  the  inhabitants, 
Japan  introduced  coercive  and  military  methods.  She  used 
icgimcnts  of  soldiers  as  her  sole  v\'capon  to  colonise  the  country  ; 
and  in  consequence  appealed  from  the  very  beginning  to  all 
that  was  base  and  evil  in  the  Koreans.  As  a  result  thousands  of 
Koreans  revolted  and  were  shot  down  as  insui'gents. 

159 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

To  put  it  bluntly,  tlie  Japanese  regime  in  1908  stood  for 
wholesale  pilfering  of  Korean  soil,  ostensibly  for  military  pur- 
poses; for  the  gradual  absorption  of  the  industries  of  the  country; 
and  for  the  vigorous  suppression  of  the  iuMirgents.  Through  the 
introduction  of  this  regime  thousands  of  Koreans  Mere  in  arms, 
aiifl  thousands  of  Japanese  ti'oo})s  wei-c  patrolling  the  country 
"  looking  for  trouble."  Judging  by  statistics,  they  found  it.  For 
over  fourteen  thousand  Koreans  have  been  shot  down  since 
the  Protectorate  was  proclaimed  ;  and  not  fourteen  hundred 
Japanese  have  fallen  in  tliis  butchci's  work.  In  the  year  1909 
alone  over  three  thousand  Koreans  wei'c  killed,  whilst  the 
Japanese  gendarmei-ielost  eleven  men  and  iKenty-seven  wounded. 

Never  once  has  a  prolonged  appeal  been  made  to  the  good  in 
the  Korean  character.  Bayonets  and  bullets  have  been  preferred 
and  have  bi'ought  in  their  train  only  the  undying  hatred  of  a 
race  once  friendly  to  the  Jajianese. 

This  disastrous  result  was  not  unnoticed  by  right-minded 
Japanese  politicians.  The  late  Prince  Ito,  whose  life  was  sacrificed 
on  the  altar  of  Militarism,  was  one-  of  the  few  who  perceived 
the  deplorable  state  of  affairs  that  had  resulted  from  the 
militai-y  occupation  of  the  country  and  the  very  unpropitious 
start  that  had  been  made  in  his  country's  fii'st  attempt  to 
colonise.^ 

])uring  this  unhappy  time  the  Koi'cans  were  not  wholly  with- 
out a  champion  for  theii'  ^vl■ongs.  The  late-  ]\Ir  Iv'nest  T.  Bethell 
filled  this  position  down  to  the  time  of  his  dc.'ith  in  1909. 

Mr  Bethell  was  the  editor  of  TJic  Korea  Daily  Xcus,  a  paper 
])ubli^hed  in  the  country's  vernacular  and  also  in  English 
(though  tlie  latter  section  luid  beeii  disconiinued  some  little 
time  beJ'ore  I  ari'ived  in  the  capital).  His  Korean  edition 
stoutly  eham])ioiicd  the  cau^c  of  thf  oppressed  nati\'e. 

I^f'l'ore  gi\'iiig  ;i  brief  resume  of  the  facts  le;i(ling  up  tf)  the  two 
famous  trials  in  Seouh  trials  tJiat  shc)uld  haA c  ojjcncd  the  eyes 
of  the  Ja])aiiese  as  it  did  tlie  eyes  cd'  others  to  the  disgraceful 

'  The  ironv  of  it  1  I'nncc  Ito,  one  of  the  best  friends  the  Koreans  had, 
was  murdered  bv  them. 

i6o 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  JAPANESE  REGIME 

scenes  and  incidents  that  were  being  enacted  by  short-sighted 
and  vindictive  officials  under  the  cloak  of  the  Administration  of 
Korea — I  would  mention  that  I  have  reasons  for  recalling  out 
of  the  past  a  drama  tliat  reflected,  one  fears,  but  little  credit  on 
the  fair  name  of  Japan.  The  first  is  that  I  cannot  fulfil  my  task 
and  give  an  account  of  experiences  and  impressions  in  every 
country  I  visited  if  I  were  to  omit  this.  The  second  reason  I 
liave  is  completely  to  clear  the  name  of  the  late  Mr  Bethell  from 
whatever  stain  or  stigma  might  yet  remain  attached  to  it — 
the  stain  of  charges  that  were  made  against  him  and  were 
proved  false  ;  the  stain  of  libellous  reports  that  were  maliciously 
circulated,  reflecting  on  his  honour  and  moral  integrity.  During 
his  lifetime  Mr  Bethell  needed  no  defender  ;  now  that  he  has 
passed  away  I  put  my  pen  forward  in  his  defence. 

During  the  years  immediately  following  the  Russian- Japanese 
war  Mr  Betliell  through  his  newspaper  exposed  and  brouglit  to 
light  many  of  the  questionable  methods  employed  by  certain 
Japanese  officials  entrusted  with  the  administration  of  the 
country.  The  Japanese  authorities  in  Seoul,  as  would  be 
naturally  supposed,  did  all  they  could  to  get  rid  of  one  who  was 
throwing  the  strong  and  undesii'ablc  light  of  publicity  on  their 
doings  ;  but  tliey  could  ffiidno  cause  or  just  pretext  for  doing  so. 
Telling  the  truth  is  not  an  indictable  offence.  It  must  be  further 
remembered  that  Mr  Bethell  was  a  British  subject,  and  extra- 
territorial rights  ^  wei'c  still  then  in  force. 

At  last,  however,  Mr  Bethell  unwittingly  gave  the  Japanese 
the  oj^portunity  for  which  they  had  so  long  been  waiting.  Ills 
Korean  editor — one  Yang-Ki-Tak — foolishly  inserted,  ^vithout 
Mr  Bethell's  knowledge,  articles  about  the  assassination  of  IMr 
I^.  W.  Stevens,  Adviser  to  the  Korean  Government.  It  will  be 
remejtibered  that  the  cause  of  Mr  Stevens'  death  by  violence  in 
San  Francisco  at  the  hands  of  certain  Koreans  was  occasioned 
by  the  prevailing  idea  amongst  most  Koreans  that  he  was  a 
traitor,  being  in  the  pay  of  the  Korean  Government,  and  yet, 
they  alleged,  playing  into  the  hands  of  the  Japanese.  The 
^  Abolished  when  the  Annexation  took  place. 

L  lOl 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

action  of  the  murderers  was  lauded  by  the  bulk  of  the  Korean 
nation  as  that  of  patriots  and  worthy  of  the  highest  approba- 
tion. This  view  had  been  embodied  in  a  certain  article,  which  had 
been  published  in  a  Korean  paper  in  San  Francisco  ;  and  it  was 
this  offending  article  that  was  reproduced  in  Mr  Bethell's  news- 
paper by  his  editoi-. 

The  result  of  the  publication  of  this  article  was  the  famous 
trial  of  Mr  Bethell  in  Seoul  for  sedition  :  for  "  inciting  to  dis- 
order." The  case  was  tried  befoi'c  i\Ir  Justice  Bourne,  M'ho  was 
sent  up  from  Shanghai  by  the  Bi'itisJi  Government,  who  had 
been  approached  by  the  Japanese  and  the  Korean  Govern- 
ment to  take  action  against  Mr  Bethell.  As  a  result  of  the  trial 
Mr  Bethell  received  a  sentence  of  three  weeks'  imprisonment, 
as  a  first-class  misdemeanant,  for  the  political  offence  of  sedition. 
It  was  rumoured  that  the  British  judge  was  instructed  by  the 
Home  Government  as  to  the  sentence  to  be  inflicted  ;  but,  as  I 
am  confining  m^^self  to  facts,  I  will  say  no  more.  It  was,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  highly  indiscreet  of  Mi'  Justice  Bourne  to  dine 
with  Prince  Ito  the  evening  before  the  trial.  One  wonders  what 
would  have  been  said  by  the  Japanese  if  it  had  been  with  Mr 
Betliell  that  the  judge  had  dined  ! 

At  the  trial  some  difficulty  arose  about  the  Koi'can  witnesses 
called  for  the  defence.  The  Japanese  authoi-ities  therefore  gave 
an  undertaking  that  nobody  should  suffer  for  any  evidence 
given  on  that  occasion.  Amongst  those  who  gave  evidence  for 
3Ir  Bethel]  was  his  editor  Yang,  who  was  even  congi-atulated  by 
the  ])rosecuting  counsel  for  his  straightforward  and  excellent 
demeanour  in  the  witness-box. 

3Ir  Bethell  served  his  sentence  in  Shanghai,  ti'avelling  dov/n 
tlie  coast  en  parole  in  a  gunboat  sent  up  for  the  purpose.  On  the 
ex])ii'ati()ii  of  the  pei'iod  of  three  weeks  Mr  Bethell  I'cturned  to 
Seoul  Avitli  tlie  same  purpose  but  moi'c  caution,  and  resumed  the 
unprodtabic  task  of  chainpioning  the  cause  of  the  oppressed 
Koi'can. 

Xot  long  after  Mr  Bethell's  return  his  edi.,or  was  liyatrick 
insiMgk'd  awax'from  the  premises  of  tJie  newspaper  office  where 

162 


imprt:ssioxs  of  tup:  Japanese  regime 

he  resided,  and  was  arrested  by  the  Japanese  authorities.  This 
was  not  exactly  a  straiglitforward  action  when  it  is  mentioned 
that  the  only  other  method  of  arresting  Yang  wa,s  by  application 
to  the  British  Consul-General,  as  the  premises  on  which  he  was 
residing  were  registei'cd  in  the  name  of  a  British  subject,  and 
Yang  was  consequently  ])rotected,  when  there,  by  the  laws  of 
extra-teri'itojiality.  The  only  possible  reason  why  this  course 
was  not  ado]3ted  was  that  the  British  Consul-Genei'al  might 
have  required  to  be  satisfied  that  there  was  some  valid  evidence 
against  Yang-Ki-Tak,  and  that  he  was  not  being  prosecuted 
for  political  reasons— such  as  revenge  for  the  evidence  given 
by  him  in  the  Bcthell  trial  ! 

Yang,  after  his  arrest,  -was  subjected  to  what  lawyers  call  a 
"  lishing  "  examination.  He  was  then  formally  charged  with 
embezzlement  of  the  money  of  the  National  Debt  Redemption 
Fund. 

Just  a  few  words  as  to  the  origin  and  formation  of  this  fund. 
In  1907  the  Koreans  started  a  fund  which  they,  in  their  old- 
world  iimocence,  thought  might  grow  to  such  proportions  that 
t]ie  amount  collected  would  be  sufficient  to  pay  off  wJiat  they 
owed  to  Japan.  It  was  their  belief  that  if  this  were  done  Japan 
would  be  compelled  to  pack  up  her  baggage  and  evacuate  Korea. 
Tliough  the  idea  reflected  somewhat  on  the  intelligence  of  the 
Koreans,  it  demonstrated  their  patriotism  ;  for,  to  raise  the  sum, 
men  freely  gave  money  they  could  ill  afford  and  women  their 
valued  trinkets  and  Jade  ornaments.  Mr  Bethell's  newspaper  was 
selected  by  the  people  as  the  best  medium  to  receive  their  contii- 
butions.  Notwithstanding  Mi'  Bethell's  wishes  that  his  paper 
should  not  be  made  the  medium  of  these  subscriptions,  money 
continued  to  ai'i'ive  daily.  Being  powerless  in  the  matter,  he 
decided  to  jjut  the  fund  on  a  business  footing  to  avoid  the 
squeezing  that  would  otherwise  inevitably  occur.  Tlie  amount 
held  at  the  moment  of  Yang's  arrest  was  considei'able.  As  Yang 
was  tlie  Korean  editor  of  the  paper  in  question,  the  Japanese 
seized  this  as  a  pretext  for  his  arrest. 

^ir  Heiiiy   CoekbLuti,  tlie  British   Consul-General  in   Seoul, 

1 03 


A  WAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

protested  from  the  first  against  the  manner  of  Yang's  arrest,  as 
it  was  a  distinct  breach  of  the  assurance  given  by  the  Japanese 
authorities  to  Judge  Bourne  at  tlie  Bethel]  triah  His  protest  was, 
liowever,  totally  disregarded  at  the  Japanese  Residency. 

This  tlicn  was  the  position  of  affairs  when  I  arrived  in  the 
capital.  The  next  day  my  position  became  i-ather  delicate,  for 
I  started  as  foreign  reviser  on  the  Seoul  Press — the  official  organ 
of  the  Japanese  Residency,  and  was  at  the  same  time  the  guest 
ol'  Mr  Bethell,  wlio,  to  put  it  mildly,  was  hardly  persona  grata 
with  the  Resident-General.  Members  of  the  Seoul  Club  humor- 
ously dubbed  me  as  the  "  spy  in  both  camps."  Both  parties — ■ 
my  host  and  my  employei's — adopted  towards  me  a  scrupulously 
hojiourable  attitude,  each  appreciating  the  delicacy  of  my  posi- 
tion and  in  no  way  attempting  to  ascertain  any  information 
that  I  might  hear  of  in  the  rival  camp. 

The  fu'st  change  in  the  situation  was  made  through  a  foreign 
resident  who  obtained  admittance  to  the  prison  where  Yang  Avas 
iiicarccratcd,  and  discovered  his  shockiiig  condition,  resulting 
from  the  privations  to  which  he  was  being  exposed.  The  dis- 
covery brought  another  official  protest  from  ]\Ir  Cockburn. 
It  was  again  disregarded.  Strojiger  steps  were,  therefore, 
taken.  The  British  Embassy  in  Tokio  was  appj-oached  in  the 
inatter,  and  hnally  the  Foreign  Oirice  in  London.  Indeed,  i:  took 
all  the  ]'esources  of  the  ]5ritish  Consulate  in  Seoul,  the  British 
fvnbassy  hi  Tokio,  and  the  Fojcign  Oilice  in  London  to  obtain 
ordinary  humane  treatment  for  Yang  whilst  lie  lay  in  prison — an 
untried  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Japanese. 

A  rem.arka])le  incident  no^v  occurred  as  tlic  lesidt  of  these 
negotiations — the;  mistaken  release  of  Yang  by  the  Japanese. 
It  Jia])])encd  a  day  or  two  after  my  an'i\'al  in  the  capital.  Whilst 
Ave  were  at  dinner  a  '"  chit  "'  arrived  for  ]\[i'  Bethell,  iiifonuing 
Jiiiri  that  his  editor  liad  been  released  and  was  at  that  moment 
in  his  newspapei'  olhee.  Immediately  on  iceeipt  of  this  piece  of 
information  3Ir  Bethell  \\eiit  doAvn  to  the  ofliee  and  there  saw 
Yang.  ^^•]lO,  vvlien  (juc^^l  ioned.  eonld  only  say  that  he  was  told  at 
the  })rison  to  go.  lie-  had  needed  no  second   telling,  but   had 

104 


( 'ii  \"  ( ':  \  I  I,  '  ii-   Si:i  >['  I  .    \\'  iKv.  \ 


\     M-J  'II.     I\i  iRi;  A 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  JAPANESE  REGIME 

immediately  takeji  a  'ricksha \\'  to  the  newspaper  olhce,  that  in 
his  idea  being  the  safest  place. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  befoi-e  Mr  Bethell  and  his  editor 
were  enlightened.  A  posse  of  Japanese  police  arrived  on  the  scene 
and  demanded  the  immediate  delivei-y  of  the  Korean  into  their 
custody  as  he  had  been  released  in  error.  Someone  had  blundered ! 
Mr  Bethell  flatly  refused  to  hand  Yang  over.  He  raised  the 
British  flag  over  the  doorway  and  told  the  police  that  they  had 
better  apply  to  the  British  Consul-General  for  permission  to 
rearrest  his  editor.  Application  was  consequently  made  by  the 
Japanese  Resident-General  to  Mr  Cockburn  for  an  order  to 
arrest  Yang  on  British  territory.  Needless  to  say,  the  Bj'itish 
Consul-General  refused  to  comply  with  this  lequest,  for,  apart 
from  the  fact  of  his  foi-mer  protests  against  the  illegal  arrest  of 
the  Korean  having  been  totally  disregarded,  he  was  further 
cojivinced  that  no  just  cause  could  be  shown  for  the  man's  arrest. 
The  Consul  then  ref  eri-ed  the  whole  matter  to  the  Foreign  Office 
ivi  London  and  at  the  same  time  advised  the  Japanese  Residency- 
General  that  he  would  only  act  on  instructions  from  home. 

As  a  result  of  the  firm  attitude  taken  up  by  Mr  Cockburn  the 
Japanese  journalists  in  the  peninsula  commenced  a  campaign, 
presumably  without  official  sanction,  of  wiring  to  newspapers  in 
Japan  grossly  libellous  and  insulting  messages  about  the  British 
Consul-General.  Puerile  and  ridiculous  information  was  cabled 
to  Japan  to  the  effect  that  jMr  Cockburn's  attitude  with  regard 
to  Yang  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  he  himself,  as  well  as 
some  of  his  staff,  were  implicated  in  the  embezzlement  of  the 
Korean  funds  of  the  misappi'opi'iation  of  which  Yang  had  been 
accused.  Furthermore,  local  correspondents  of  Japanese  news- 
papers disseminated  discreditable  and  false  repoiis  concerning 
Mr  Bethell.  The  feeling  of  the  foreigners  in  Seoul  at  this  moment 
was  unanimous  in  condemning  the  attitude  of  the  Japanese 
Resident-General  as  imdignified  as  dishonourable. 

I  myself  visited  Yang  after  his  escape,  or  juistaken  release, 
and  found  him  a  moral  and  physical  wreck.  Having  confirmed 
to  my  satisfaction  the  facts  of  the  affaii-,  I  attempted  to  warn 

i(>5 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  Japanese  in  Japan  of  what  was  really  going  on  in  Seoul.  To 
this  end  I  wrote  a  long  lettei-  to  The  Japan  Chronicle,  one  of  the 
leading  dailies  there.  It  was  duly  published. 

Yang  WPS  finally  delivei'ed  up  to  the  Japanese  by  ]\Ir  Cockburn 
aeting  on  instiiietions  from  the  Foreign  Offiee  in  London,  who, 
however,  insisted  l)erore  he  was  handed  over  tliat  the  prisoner 
should  be  pro7)iptIy  brought  to  tiial  and  be  humanely  treated. 

])iiring  the  interval  between  tlic  mistaken  lelease  of  Yang 
and  his  return  to  the  Japanese  tlie  Consul-Genei-al  had  been 
the  subject  of  thegiossest  slanders  in  the  Japanese  Press.  When 
it  is  ]-emembei-ed  that  Mr  Coekburn's  attitude  throughout  the 
whole  matter  was  thoroughly  in  harmony  with  the  honourable 
traditions  of  the  British  Coiisular  Service  there  is  nothing  sur- 
jn-ising  in  his  open  letter  to  Mr  Bethell  on  tlie  subject  of  the 
shameful  libels  in  the  Japanese  Press.  This  letter  was  published 
throughout  the  Far  East ;  its  concluding  lines  are  worth  repro- 
ducing : 

"...  I  think  that  you  are  entitled  to  a  formal  expression  of 
ni}^  opinion,  ^vhieh  is  that  the  mei-e  fact  of  a  statement  being 
telegra})hed  to  Japan  l)y  a  Japanese  newspaper  conespondent 
ought  not  to  be  considered  as  creating  any  presumption  that 
thei-e  is  the  slightest  basis  of  truth  in  it." 

It  needed  something  nioi-e  than  ordinary  abuse  to  extract 
fi'om  the  icpresentative  of  the  Bi'itish  Government  in  Korea 
such  a  forcible  expression  of  his  opinion  of  the  morality,  or  lack 
of  it,  of  Ja])anese  journalists, 

Yang's  trial  took  place  in  the  Chief  Local  Court  of  Seoul  a 
short  time  after  his  delivery  up  to  the  Japanese;  and  the  trial 
iesulted,  as  it  only  could,  in  the  complete  clearing  of  both  IMr 
Yaug  and  Mr  Bethell  from  the  chai'ges  which  directly,  or  in- 
directly, had  been  ])referi'(^d  against  them.  Yang  was  triumph- 
antly aef[uitted  of  the  charge  of  eml)ezzlement  of  the  National 
Debt  Redem])tion  Fund  and  was  released,  after  tmdergoing  for 
several  weeks  the  terrible  ex])ericnees  of  a  Korean  prison  hi  the 

i66 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  JAPANESE  REGIME 

heat  of  tlie  summci-,  foi'  wliicli,  however,  no  compensation  oi- 
even  apology  was  ever  made  to  him.  The  wliole  affair  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  threw  an  ugly  hght  on  the  metliods  of  th(; 
Japanese  administration  in  Korea  ;  and  the  Japanese  Residency- 
General  suffered  matei-ially  in  reputation.  It  further  illustrated 
how  a  lai'ge  part  of  the  Japanese  Press  was  willing  to  publish  any 
slanderous  storj^  affecting  those  who  might  oppose  Japanese 
domination  in  Korea.  In  the  open  court  Yang  received  a 
fair  trial ;  but  is  it  too  much  to  say  that  the  sight  of  five  foreign 
consuls  alone  revived  the  dormant  sense  of  Japanese  justice 
in  Korea  in  1908  ? 

Much  of  the  forepart  of  this  chapter  was  written  on  the 
Af  I'ican  \Tld  and  I  had  hoped  that  when  I  returned  to  the  East 
to  be  able  to  conclude  the  chapter  by  saying  that  the  harsh 
spirit  of  the  Japanese  regime  in  Korea  of  1908  was  a  thing  of  the 
past.  To  my  regret  I  am  imable  to  do  so.  Korea  is  still  under 
railitary  domination.  "Conspiracies"  and  "trials"  are  still 
the  order  of  the  day.  Yang  lies  rotting  in  prison  ;  and  Japanese 
justice  in  Korea  is  still  the  same  as  it  was  in  1908  ! 


167 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FROM  KOREA  THROUGH  MANCHURIA 

THROUGH  the  courtesy  of  the  editor  of  The  Seoul  Press 
I  was  granted  a  pass  over  the  Korean  railway,  whicli 
runs  to  Wi  ju  from  the  capital  through  the  north-eastern 
part  of  the  counti'y  and  to  the  borders  of  3Ianehuria.  I  caught 
the  early  morning  train  on  the  21st  August,  bidding  farewell 
to  all  those  who  had  been  so  kind  to  me  during  juy  short  stay 
in  Seoul.  I  also  took  with  me  one  or  two  letters  of  introduction 
to  residents  up  north. 

The  train  passed  for  the  most  part  through  low-lying  ground, 
crops  of  millet  and  rice  being  much  in  evidence.  Low  ranges  of 
hills  lay  on  our  right  hand,  bare,  barren  and  almost  entirely 
denuded  of  vegetation  or  timljer.  In  many  cases  just  one  tiee 
remained  standing  sadly  in  its  lonehness — a  silent  witness  to 
the  folly  of  the  Koreans.  Korea  in  parts  is  pract":"  lly  deforested 
through  the  impi'ovidence  of  past  generations,  which  ruthlessly 
cut  down  the  trees  without  let  or  hindrance  and  without  any 
attempt  to  replant  districts  denuded  of  timber.  Under  the  control 
of  the  Japanese,  however,  steps  are  being  takeri  to  reclaim  great 
stj'ctelies  of  bare  lands  ;  and  I  have  heard  that  the  Jaijanese 
House  of  Mitsui  has  secured  extensive  areas  with  this  object  in 
view. 

On  our  way  north  we  passed  over  many  empty  livej'-beds 
wjiich,  though  then  dry  or  nearly  so,  needed  but  twcnty-foui- 
oi'  foriy-eight  houi's  of  rain  to  be  convert c-d  i)ito  swollen 
torrents,  which  inevitably  swe])t  away  the  primitive  wooden 
bridges.  All  the  soil  was  of  a  very  reddisJi  coloui',  almost  of 
a  terra,-eotla  shade,  similai'  to  that  I  had  ol^served  in  the 
region  Ix'twecii  C']u'nuil])ho  and  the  ca])ital.  !\[ueh  gi'anite  was 

lOcS 


FROM  KOREA  THROTTJT  IMAXCIITnUA 

noticeable.  A  peculiar  physical  feature  of  this  northern  part  of 
Korea  impressed  itself  out  my  nieniory.  On  one  side  of  the  I'iver 
the  bank  was  girdled  with  high  hills  which  rose  almost  from  the 
extreme  edge,  whilst  on  the  opposite  bank  was  low-lying  ground; 
a  mile  or  so  down  the  river  these  conditions  were  revei'sed. 

We  reached  Pingyang — the  ancient  capital — late  in  the 
afternoon,  the  approach  to  this  walled  city  being  made  over  a 
wooden  bridge  which  spanned  the  river.  The  ominous  creaking 
and  groaning  of  the  timbers  and  trestles  and  the  swaying  of 
the  bridge  under  the  weight  of  the  moving  train  were  anything 
but  reassurijig.  I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when  we  reached  solid 
ground  again.  To-day  an  iron  structure  replaces  that  rickety 
bridge.  It  wa-:.  exceedingly  dusty  round  Pijigyang  and  one's 
eyes  became  very  sore  from  the  reddish  dust  which  every  gust 
of  wind  blew  up  in  one's  face.  By  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  we 
reached  our  journey's  end  at  Wiju,  which  is  situated  on  the 
Korean  side  of  the  River  Yalu  facing  the  town  of  Antung. 

I  crossed  the  river  that  night — an  undertaking  far  from 
pleasant,  as  it  was  blowing  liard,  miserably  wet  and  very  cold. 
So  strong  was  the  current  that  I  sat  in  a  sampan  for  over  an 
hour  while  the  coolies  rowed  me  across. 

I  spent  thr-^.e  days  in  all  in  Antung  ;  and  very  profitably  too. 
Antung,  or  Antung-ken,  as  the  Japanese  term  it,  is  the  starting- 
point  of  the  Antung-^NIukden  railway. 

It  is  a  t}7jically  Chinese  town,  a  faithful  description  of  which, 
even  if  space  perinitted,  would  be  entirely  beyond  my  powers. 
It  is  the  Cliinesc  poi't  of  customs  for  ^Manchuria,  the  customs 
i&ervice  being,  as  is  well  known,  under  the  control  of  foreigners 
— a  part  of  the  masterly  system  which  owes  its  origin  and 
development  to  the  late  Sir  Robert  Hart. 

The  Japanese  settlement  in  the  towji  was  of  no  inconsiderable 
size.  The  influence  of  the  Japanese  was  even  then  very  notice- 
a})le.  To-day  it  is  all-powerful.  I  caught  sight  of  some  of  the 
timber  that  played  such  an  important  role  in  the  late  war  lying 
on  the  banks  of  the  Yalu. 

The  hrst  evening  in  Antung  I  spent  in  a  Japanese  theatre. 

169 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

The  plays  staged  wei'c  most  appealing  and  interesting,  despite 
tlie  fnet  that  I  was  not  very  familiar  with  the  laiiguage.  At  tlie 
risk  of  wearying  my  readei;  I  will  sketch  ])rief!y  the  plots — l)oth 
from  seenes  of  old  Ja])an. 

The  First  act  of  03ie  ])lay  de])ieted  a  bordei-  quari-el  between 
two  dainiios  and  their  respective  '■etainers.  The  second  act 
showed  lis  a  })oor  samurai  wandering  about  the  country  unable 
to  buy  food  for  his  motherless  little  child.  He  placed  the  child 
on  the  ])order  of  the  two  territories  and  left  in  quest  of  work. 
The  last  scene  illustrated  rather  touehingly  the  manner  in  which 
the  wife  of  each  daimio  nursed  tlie  child  on  alternate  days. 
Eventually  the  child  became  the  mediiun_  for  a  reconciliation 
between  the  two  hostile  chiefs,  who.  in  the  (  :.(!.  became  firm 
friends.  Tlie  apj)eal  to  the  audience,  nondescript  as  it  was,  was 
good  and  wliolesome. 

The  second  play  demonstrated  to  what  an  extent  a  samurai 
would  saci'ifice  himsejf  in  the  scr\icc  of  his  lord.  We  were  shown 
a  samurai  of  high  I'ank  betrothed  to  the  daughter  of  a  neigli- 
boui'ing  daimio  who  was,  Iiowever,  a  deadly  enemy  to  the 
samurai's  liege.  This  latter  sent  our  heio  to  spy  on  the  enemy's 
cam]).  The  last  scene  ^ho^^•ed  us  tlie  samurai  cai'rying  out  his 
purpose,  though  it  meant  tlie  denial  and  the  abandonment  of  his 
betrothed  in  orde;'  to  accomplish  his  lord's  will. 

Tlie  second  evening  in  Antimg  was  s])ent  in  a  "  nmsic  hall  "  ; 
and  I  am  not  exaggei'ating  v,-he]i  I  say  that  I  saw  thei'c  as  skilled 
])erforiners  a>nd  as  excellent  ""  tuiJi^  "  as  I  have  ever  witnessed 
at  the  Tivoli  oi'  the  l^u'ilion  in  London.  The  ])rogj'annne  was 
excellent.  It  included  '' tuiiis  "'  of  juggiei's.  conjurers,  trick- 
cyclists  and  a  most  uncanny  mesmerist  ^^■]lo  ahnost  gave  one 
the  ciee])s.  TJie  ixsloiiuers  wcic  all  (liincse  and  Japanese. 

The  distance  Irom  Aiitung  lo  ^fukdeii  is  only  one  liundi'ed 
and  eiglity-eighl  miles,  and  the  faet  thai  it  then  took  two  days 
to  accom])lisJi  tliis  jonrney  ^vas  tin'  best  argument  in  fa\"Our  of 
a  s])c('dy  change  of  gau^e.  1  had  I  lie  gocid  foiiime  lO  make  this 
joui'iiev  belore  ttic  iiaii'ow-gauge  line  constructed  during  the 
^va^  was  discai'ded  in  ra\'oui'  oi'  a  bi'oa.d-trauu'e  track.  I  sav  (I'ood 


FROM  KOKFA  THROT^GH  MANCHURIA 

fortune,  for  the  gain  in  comfort  and  time  by  the  substitution 
of  tlie  ))ioad-gaugc  is  at  tlie  expense  of  the  beautiful  scenery. 
Many  of  the  hills  have  now  been  tunnelled.  The  former  line  had, 
owing  to  the  necessity  for  haste,  been  carried  roimd  and  over  the 
liills,  fj-om  which  an  exquisite  panorama  was  unfolded.  The 
journey  over  this  nai'i o\v -gauge  line  impressed  me  with  the  skill 
and  I'esoui'cefiilness  of  the  Japanese  engineers  in  laying  down, 
in  the  short  space  of  a  few  nronths  during  the  war,  a  service- 
able track,  without  boring  a  single  tunnel — and  this  in  a  hilly 
and  mountainous  country  ! 

To-day  I  believe  there  are  more  than  thirty  tunnels,  the 
longest  being  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  The  boring  of  these  tunnels 
will  rob  the  preseiit  route  of  much  of  its  charm. 

It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the  exquisite 
panorama  of  beauty  that  unfolded  itself  before  the  eyes  of  the 
traveller  high  up  on  those  hills.  Looking  down,  one  saw  the  little 
red-eai'th  track,  the  course  of  the  railway,  winding  its  tortuous 
course  in  and  out  shady  valleys,  green  with  luxuriant  foliage, 
and  waving  crops  of  rice  and  millet  through  which  silvery 
streams  lazily  wended  their  way  to  the  distant  mountains,  their 
blui>>li  tints  blending  with  the  waving  yellow  of  the  ripening 
grain.  Weeping  willows  drooped  in  graceful  languor  over  rippling 
streams,  whose  waters  were  dammed  at  intervals  with  barriers 
of  stones  to  turn  the  primitive  water-wheels  for  the  homesteads. 
Here  and  there  one  espied  the  blue-garbed  labourer  working 
diligently  in  the  fields  ;  ]Manehu  caits  drawn  by  teams  of  all 
kinds  of  animals — oxen  yoked  with  donkeys  and  mules,  ho]-ses, 
too,  whilst  a  drove  of  pigs  sometimes  followed  in  the  wake. 

Amidst  all  this  beauty  and  peaceful  calm  there  was  constant 
rciuindcr  of  the  tcri'iblc  carnage  that  tliese  placid  hills  and  glades 
had  \vitncss(;d  not  so  many  moiiths  before.  Little  green  mounds — 
the  graves  of  the  dead— met  one's  eyes  on  all  sides.  Rifle-pits 
and  trendies,  now  covered  with  Nature'-,  cloak,  recalled  scenes 
of  blood  aiid  strife.  We  })assed  on  our  way  numerous  villages, 
which  consisted  of  small  iuits  built  oJ'  stone,  held  together 
with  nmd,  the  walls  j)lastered  with  chopped  straw  and  clay. 

171 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

The  presence  of  a  foreigner  seemed  to  excite  a  certain  amount 
of  curiosity  and  interest  at  the  villages  where  we  stopped.  Small 
groups  of  naked  toddlers,  stolid-faced  men,  carmine -painted 
women  and  maidens  with  their  peculiar  Manchu  head-dress, 
would  assemble  round  my  cai'riagc  and  indulge  in  personal 
comment.  Fortunately — for  I  was  pretty  sure  that  they  were 
not  complimentary^ — I  was  not  able  to  understand  their 
remarks. 

In  one  range  of  hills  the  sunmiits  of  five  adjoining  peaks  were 
flattened  with  astounding  regularity,  giving  the  impression  of 
turrets  of  an  old  castle.  Most  of  the  liills  were  thickly  wooded, 
their  purple  and  blue  tints  clianging  into  and  blending  harmoni- 
ously with  the  green  of  the  verdui'e  and  foliage.  Slate  abounded 
in  some  of  the  districts  through  which  the  line  ran. 

The  walled  town  of  Mukden  is  a  long  way  from  the  railway 
station  and  it  took  me  a  full  hour's  drive  in  a  Russian  droshky 
to  reach  it.  I  put  up  at  a  Japanese  hotel  for  other  reasons  be- 
sides that  of  economy,  as  one  is  always  sure  to  find  cleanliness 
at  such  places,  if  not  exactly  French  cooking.  To  mc,  however, 
the  eating  of  Japanese  food  was  no  hardship  :  my  residence  in  a 
temple  in  Tokio  had  trained  my  palate  to  everything  save  raw 
seaweed. 

I  made  a  short  stay  of  a  couple  of  days  in  this  city  and  obtained 
a  glimpse  into  the  life  of  the  Manchus  in  Manchuria.  A  walk 
along  the  top  of  the  massive  wall  that  encircled  the  city  gave  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  town  and  of  the  surroundijig  country. 
A  stroll  through  the  thronged  and  busy  streets,  the  sight  of  the 
pig-tailed  gendarmerie  and  militai'v,  impressed  me  with  the 
great  though  still  dormant  vitality  of  China. 

I  had  in  my  possession  a  "  chit  "  to  the  American  Consul  from 
his  colleague  in  Seoul,  the  wording  of  which  was  deliglitfully 
crisp  and  brief.  Just  the  words  :  "  My  dear  S — — ,  1  coiumend 

Mr  Ridger  to  youi'  tender  mercies.  Youis  V ."  Unfoitunately 

the  Consul  was  absent,  so  I  missed  a  pleasant  chat  and  a  cocktail ! 

I  met  one  or  two  very  charming  Japanese  gentlemen  in 
IMukdeii,  and  iu  Llieir  company  visited  Ilokriugo  \\]i(Te  tlie  old 

172 


FROM  KOREA  THROUGH  MANCHURIA 

tombs  of  the  JManchu  kings  are  situated.  A  pleasant  drive 
brought  us  to  the  thick  grove  of  pines  which  enclose  the  resting- 
place  of  the  dead  ]Manchu  rulers  i-cckoned  to  be  many  centuries 
old.  Some  handsomely  carved  images  of  dragons,  elephants  and 
horses  lined  the  tiled  terraces  and  courtyard,  each  image  being 
carved  out  of  one  piece  of  stone.  The  tiles,  though  many 
hundieds  of  years  old,  were  still  in  splendid  condition,  the  glaze 
not  a  jot  inferior  to  the  best  that  our  potteries  can  to-day  turn 
out.  Surreptitiously  I  appropriated  a  small  piece. 

The  main  line  fj-om  Mukden  to  Cliangchun,  the  terminus 
of  the  Japanese  railway,  was  then  in  course  of  reorganisation, 
and  the  supply  of  modern  rolling  stock  was  still  very  limited. 
I  was  fortunate  therefore  in  catching  a  train  made  up  of  the 
newest  type  of  Pullman  car.  The  seating  accommodation  how- 
ever was  in  the  form  of  arm-chairs — very  comfortable  in  the 
daytime  but  rather  tiring  at  night,  "  sleepers  "  not  yet  being 
in  use. 

To-day  all  these  small  inconveniences  are  a  thing  of  the  past, 
for  the  South  Manchuria  Railway  is  considered  to  be  one  of 
the  best-equipped  and  managed  lines  in  any  part  of  the  world 
— a  credit  to  Japan's  commercial  men.  Even  "chronic  kickers  " 
would  have  difficulty  to  find  fault  or  any  genuine  cause  for 
complaint. 

When  leaving  jNIukden  I  caught  sight  of  a  vast  expanse  of 
little  green  mounds — tlie  Chinese  cemetery  of  the  town.  The 
(■hincse  l)ui'y  their  dead  "  topside  "—above  the  ground,  not 
below,  as  we  do. 

Well-built  Russian  houses  lined  the  course  of  the  railway  with 
Russian  names  still  in  evidence.  Japanese  officials  inhabited 
them,  though  looking  somewhat  out  of  place.  One  felt  large- 
bearded  Russiajis  should  have  stood  in  tlie  lofty  doorways  of 
those  solid  buildings,  instead  of  dapper  and  rather  consequential 
little  Japanese  officers. 

Beside  this  evidence  of  the  change  of  ownership  trenches 
and  rifle-pits,  roofless  houses  wrecked  by  shells,  together  with 
many  little  groups  of  graves,  reminded  one  only  too  forcibly  of 

173 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  blood  that  had  been  shed  and  the  thousands  of  hves  lost  in 
the  struggle  that  liad  occurred  but  three  years  before. 

The  crops  were  looking  splendid.  Manchuria,  which  I  in  my 
youthful  ignorance  had  imagined  to  be  an  almost  barren  plain, 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  fertile  territories  I  visited.  Tall 
waving  fields  of  kaoliang  (millet),  flourishing  crops  of  beans  and 
vegetables,  testified  to  the  j'ichness  of  parts  of  this  country. 

Numerous  reports  were  then  cun-ent  about  the  raids  and  the 
damage  inflicted  by  the  Hunghutzes — the  brigands  of  Man- 
churia. Instances  of  attacks  on  the  train  were  not  uncommon. 
The  great  height  to  which  the  kaoliang  grows  affords  shelter  for 
these  robbers,  who  utilise  its  cover  in  their  attacks  on  the 
villages. 

We  passed  at  noon  Tiehling  Heights,  the  hills  there  being 
pitted  and  scarred  by  the  hurricane  of  shot  and  shell  that  had 
swept  them  during  the  masterly  retreat  of  the  Russians  from 
their  position.  By  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  reached  the 
terminus  of  the  S.^M.R. ;  just  a  short  distance  from  Changchun 
is  Kwangchangtsu,  whei'c  the  Russian  sphere  of  influence  begins. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  in  190.5  the  Japanese  acquired  from 
the  Russians  the  main  line  of  the  Chinese  Eastern  Railway  from 
Daii'cn  to  Changchun,  with  its  branch  lines  and  the  coal  mines 
at  Fusliun. 

A  drive  in  a  droshky  in  pitch  darkness  over  the  jnost  execrable 
roads  bi'ought  me  to  the  temporary  railway  hotel,  where 
to-day,  I  am  told,  stands  one  of  the  handsomest  hotels  in  the 
East.  I  forgot  to  ask  my  infoi'mant  whether  tliei-e  are  some 
slightly  improved  roads.  I  sincerely  hope  so  I  It  was  not  a  drive  ; 
it  was  a  series  of  jum]3s  over  jniniature  hills  and  dales,  over 
young  moujitains  and  ])i('('ipiecs,  into  youthful  valleys  and 
gullies.  I  I'cached  the  hotel,  however,  in  safety- — though  breath- 
less !  My  driver  would  \\ii\c  made  his  foitune  in  a  London  circus  ; 
the  way  he  mani])ulate(l  Ww  leins  and  shaved  corners  and  ti'ecs 
was  I'emarkable.  A  (hive  thi'ough  the  town  of  Kwangchanfftsu 
the  following  day  revealed  to  me  even  Avorsp  specimens  of 
"  tlioiotiglilares  "  than  those  1  had  negotiated  the  pievious  m'ght. 

174 


'3Z5HI3  lit:  ;^ 


FROM  KOREA  THROUGH  MAXCIIURIA 

I  marvelled  then  how  in  that  pitch  darkness  i  had  reached  the 
hotel  alive  !  As  Oregon  is  always  associated  in  my  mind  with 
picking  strawberries  so  is  the  Chinese  town  of  Kwangchangtsu 
with  diabolical  roads.  The  illustration  produced  but  faintly 
conveys  an  idea  of  the  thick  mire  and  the  general  state  of  the 
ground.  The  heavy  rains  convert  these  so-called  roads  into 
morasses  and  when  the  winter  sets  in  they  arc  frozen  hard  in 
the  same  mould. 

In  this  town  I  visited  a  Chinese  theatre.  I  admired  the  hand- 
some if  somewhat  showy  dresses  of  the  actors  and  actresses.  I 
admired  the  energy  of  the  orchestra.  But  most  of  all  I  admired 
the  wonderful  lung  power  of  the  principal  artists  !  The  chief 
impression  I  obtained  was  that  the  leading  lady  was  endeavour- 
ing to  sing  to  beat  the  band — not  in  tlie  vulgar  sense — literally  ! 
On  more  than  one  occasion  slie  won — she  drowned  the  band  and 
I  heard  her  voice.  When  she  lost,  or  didn't  beat  the  band,  I  only 
Iviiew  she  was  singing  by  observing  the  veins  on  her  forehead 
swell  almost  to  bursting  point.  At  any  indication,  however,  of 
her  victory  being  too  prolonged  the  band  \\ould  be  stimulated 
to  further  efforts,  and,  as  Chinese  instrumental  nmsic  is  decidedly 
powerful,  a  most  terrible,  deafening  noise  was  the  result. 

It  was  in  this  part  of  the  world  that  I  met  my  first  prince — 
a  Russian.  I  had  been  given  a  letter  of  introduction  by  the 
Russian  Consul  in  Seoul  to  Prince  Mestchersky,  the  Consul  in 
this  town.  He  was  a  most  charming  man  and  as  courteous  to  un- 
important me  as  though  I  had  been  some  distinguished  traveller. 
He  was  also,  I  think,  one  of  the  most  splendid  specimens  of 
manhood  I  have  ever  seen.  He  very  amiably  granted  my  request 
for  a  pass  over  the  Russian  line  to  Harbin,  and  if  I  had  wished  it 
would  have  extended  it  to  the  bojxlers  of  Russia.  I  gratefully 
thanked  him  and  diplomatically  suggested  that  a  return  pass 
would  fully  meet  my  modest  requirements.  This  was  granted. 
Needless  to  say,  tliis  Russian  ofiicial  spoke  English  fluently  and 
other  Continental  languages  besides  liis  own.  I  wo]ider  if  my 
reack'r  shares  the  foolish  and  erroneous  idea,  unfortunately 
still  .'^o  prevalent  in  England,  that  Russia  has  not  her  full  share 

175 


A   WAXDEIiER'S  TRAIL 

of  accomplished  and  cultured  gentlemen,  I  obtained,  it  is  true, 
only  a  glimpse  of  the  nationals  of  Russia  up  in  this  part  of  the 
world — the  fringe  of  tlie  gicat  Russian  Kmpire  ;  but  it  was 
enough  to  show  me  liow  foolish  was  the  anti-Russian  feeling 
that  pervaded  the  British  Islcs  during  the  late  war- — as  false 
and  as  foolish  as  was  the  absurdly  pro-Japaiiese  sentiment.  One 
fears  that  the  very  great  ignorance  of  us  British — our  ignorance 
of  every  coimti-y  beyond  the  little  islands  in  which  we  dwell — • 
is  one  of  the  chief  cau'-es  of  international  ill-feeling. 

I  was  a  godsend  to  the  one  solitary  Eiu'opoan  resident  of  the 
hotel,  a  Scotsman  representing  a  Shanghai  business  firm.  We 
beguiled  many  hoins  with  games  of  American  billiards,  of  which 
game  we  wcie  both  equally  ignorant  :  consequently  we  were 
perfectly  matched. 

The  wcatliei-  sirice  my  arrival  in  Manchiu'ia  had  been  very 
lovely — hot  and  sunny  ;  so  taking  advantage  of  the  fact  my 
companion  and  I  o]i  tlie  following  day.  Simday.  took  a  stroll 
roimd  the  outskirts  of  tlie  to^vn.  We  obtained  a  good  glimpse 
of  the  agriculturiil  methods,  as  also  of  the  products  of  the  district. 
The  ero])s  looked  very  healthy.  ^lelons.  millet,  beans — all  were 
in  a  llourisliiiig  condition.  Toinatoes  grew  well  but  no  trouble 
seemed  to  be  taken  to  tend  them,  much  of  the  fruit  simply 
rotting  by  contact  with  the  soil  :  doubtless  the  ubiquitous  pig 
thrived  on  tliem. 

A  ten-hours'  ride  on  the  Russian  line  brought  me  to  Harbin. 
Though  only  ;i  h-w  mik's  s(/])araied  the  Ja]ianese  railway 
terjuinus  of  Cliaiigeliuu  from  llie  Russian  sta;tiag-})oint  at 
Kwa]igehaiigisii.  tin,'  Irair-ition  \\iis  almost  that  of  Asia  to 
Europe. 

In  the  ti'ain  to  Ilarbiu  {lure  \\-ei-e  many  Russian  officers 
travelling  norili.  and  agaiust  IIkIj'  towcriiig  l)odles  my  five  feet 
ele\'f]i  inches  of  I'.agilc'  IVaiiii'  scciacd  ([Uitc  ecli])sed.  In  eonvers- 
ijig  with  ihcm.  or  in  iii\'  (  adca\'oui',s  to  do  s(.>.  I  miu'dei'ed  tlie 
(ic'/iiian  language,  as  ihonI  (jf  tliciu  knew  no  Kuglish.  Tins  pai't 
of  the  ^\■o^^d  is  about  the-  only  ])laee  I  have  e\"ei'  \"isited  where 
Ijiglish  has  jjcc  11  of  lit  lie  Usc.  I  had  to  blunder  along  with  bits 

176 


FROM  KOREA  THROUGH  MANCHURIA 

of  Japanese  and  twisted  Chinese  and  odd  phrases  of  French  and 
German.  The  fact  that  English  is  so  universally  spoken,  or  at 
least  known,  is,  I  think,  the  main  cause  that  the  modern  English- 
man's talent  for  learning  any  other  language  than  his  own  has 
nearly  atrophied. 

The  sight  of  some  of  the  fine  buildings  of  New  Harbin  and  the 
general  European  tone  of  the  town  were  very  refreshing  after 
months  of  Oriental  atmosphere.  The  buildings  looked  finer  than 
they  really  were. 

Prior  to  the  Russian  occupation  of  Harbin  and  the  building  of 
the  Chinese  Eastern  Railway,  it  was  the  site  of  nothing  more 
than  a  small  and  unimportant  Chinese  village.  The  construction 
of  the  railroad,  of  extensive  workshops  and  warehouses  soon 
produced  a  change. 

In  Seoul  I  had  been  warned  that  Harbin  was  one  of  the 
"toughest  "  places  in  the  East,  or  in  the  West  for  that  matter, 
as  the  town  was  suffering  from  the  slump  that  had  set  in — the 
aftermath  of  the  boom  during  tlie  war.  The  condition  of  things 
was  certainly  no  better  than  that  of  which  I  had  been  told.  My 
friend  Mr  Harrison's  opinion  of  Harbin's  moials,  or  lack  of  them, 
coincides  with  mine.  He  says  ^  :  "A  word  of  friendly  advice 
to  the  stranger  in  Harbin.  Steer  clear  of  dai'k  corners  !  The 
Grouzin,  or  Georgian,  is  abroad  in  the  land  more  especially 
when  the  sun  has  gone  down  ;  he  is  a  walking  arsenal  of  Brown- 
ings and  poniards  ;  is  constantly  on  the  lookout  for  lost  sheep  ; 
and  the  belated  wayfarer  who  is  not  punctual  in  his  response  to 
the  sudden  invitation  '  hands  up  '  (rookee  vverkh  !  )  as  often 
as  not  never  gets  any  further  than  Harbin.  For  unfortunates  of 
tliis  description  there  is  certainly  a  ghastly  appropriateness  in 
the  esotei'ic  meaning  of  the  word  Harbin  which  is  said  to  be 
dei'ived  from  the  Chinese  '  Hoahin  '  meaning  a  '  big  tomb.'  These 
(icoi-gians  are  the  curse  not  only  of  Harbin  but  of  all  North 
Manchuria  and  East  Siberia.  They  are  never  known  to  wo.-k 
and  they  are  rarely  without  a  good  supply  of  hard  cash." 

Nevertheless  living  up  to  my  motto  of  "  not  to  look  for  trouble 
^  "  Peace  or  War — East  of  Baikal  ?  "  (E.  J.  Harrison). 
M  177 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

but  be  always  ready  for  it,"  I  roamed  safely  round  the  town, 
visiting  in  the  evenings  the  cafes,  listening  to  the  music  and 
watching  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  many  well-dressed 
Russian  men  and  women.  The  sound  of  a  violin  was  very  re- 
freshing aftci-  the  unmusical  samisen  of  Japan.  Cinematograph 
shows  were  numerous,  as  also  were  the  demi-mondaines  that 
frequented  tliem. 

The  town  of  Har])in  has  three  sections  :  the  New  Town, 
Harbin  Old  Town,  and  Harbin-Pristan.  The  New  Town  is,  one 
might  say,  the  European  or  Russian  pait  of  the  city  ;  in  this 
part  are  tlic  j-ailway  olJiccs,  banks  and  churches,  etc.  The  Old 
Town  is  a  poorer  though  more  animated  edition  of  the  New; 
whilst  Harbin-Pristan  is  the  I'cal  business  quaitcr.  The  bean 
is  the  sta])le  commodity.  Harbin  is  also  becoming  j'carly  more 
impoi'tant  as  a  convenient  export  centre  for  iloui"  and  corn. 

After  an  enjoyable  stay  of  three  days  in  Hai'bin,  a  stay  made 
doubly  plcasiint  by  the  kindness  shown  me  by  Russians  and 
Japanese  alike,  I  returaed  over  the  line  to  Mukden.  Ti-avelling 
south,  I  ])assed  Liaoyang  and  Ta-Sliih-Chiao,  memorable  scenes 
of  some  of  the  bloodiest  lights  that  have  ever  shamed  the  world, 
and  reached  Dairen  at  daybreak  on  the  following  day.  I  was 
not  at  all  sorry  to  leave  the  train. 


178 


Mi    Klii;\;     lilK    TdMl;-    iil--    THI-:     Mam    lir     IvMI'KRoK 


II  \Kl;!\ 


CHAPTER    XV 

IMPRESSIONS    OF    DAIREN    AND    PORT   ARTHUR 

I  FEAR  my  brief  stay  in  Dairen,  or  Dalny,  as  it  used  to  be 
called,  was  one  on  which  I  do  not  much  care  to  look  back. 
Save  for  a  visit  to  Port  Arthur  and  a  brief  moment  of 
interest  when  the  Chinese  Viceroy  of  Manchuria  arrived  in 
Dairen,  I  barely  moved  from  the  hotel  doors.  I  was  both  physic- 
ally and  mentally  run  down,  and  suffered  from  a  black  mood. 
Here  I  first  realised  that  even  a  young  man  could  suffer  from 
overwrought  nerves.  Three  months  of  nearly  steady  travel  since 
leaving  Tokio,  including  some  twenty-one  days  on  the  railway, 
during  A\iiicli  period  my  brain  had  been  ceaselessly  engaged 
in  absorbing  information,  impressions  and  ideas,  had  quite 
tired  me  out.  I  was  also  beginning  to  feel  the  strain  of  twenty 
months  of  wandering  in  various  countries  in  my  unorthodox 
way,  more  or  less  penniless ;  and  to  realise  that  I  was  burning 
the  candle  at  both  ends. 

The  garden-party  given  in  lionour  of  the  Viceroy's  visit,  to 
which  I  was  courteously  invited,  was  a  very  pretty  and  successful 
fete.  The  Japanese  are  certainly  ideal  hosts.  This  raises  a  point 
to  which  I  would  refer.  I  have  frequently  heard  it  alleged  that 
the  Japanese  are  hospitable  to  strangers  only  from  interested 
motives,  ideal  hosts  only  when  it  suits  them.  I  do  not  deny  that 
Japan  is  fully  alive  to  the  necessity  of  entertaining  sumptuously 
and  of  being  very  agreeable  to  distinguished  strangers  from 
purely  interested  motives  ;  but  what  nation  to-day  is  not  equally 
alive  to  this  necessity  and  does  not  do  the  same  ?  Japan  can  no 
more  be  accused  of  ulterior  motives  on  this  score  than  can 
England,  Germany  or  the  Argentine. 

My  tra\'els  through  Japan,  Korea  and  Manchuria  testify  to 

179 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  falseness  of  the  aceusation  of  insincerity  in  hospitality 
directed  against  the  Japanese.  Although  I  was  merely  an 
unimportant  stranger  in  their  midst,  with  no  power  to  do 
them  good  or  harm  and  unable  to  requite  tlicij-  kindness,  I  was 
generously  treated  by  all  classes,  both  official  and  private. 

After  my  fifth  day  in  Dairen  I  pulled  myself  together  and 
visited  Port  Arthur.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly.  Everything 
looked  very  fresh.  The  hills,  with  the  mountains  in  the  back- 
ground, appeared  rich  and  green  and  the  shining  watei's  of  the 
bay  brilliantly  reflected  the  sun's  rays.  But  notwithstanding  the 
peaceful  aspect  of  everything,  and  though  it  was  full  three  years 
since  this  celebrated  fortress  was  in  the  awful  throes  of  war 
it  was  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  bay  covered  again  with  war- 
like craft  vomiting  showers  of  shot  and  shell  ;  to  see  again  the 
hills  draped  in  smoke  through  which  could  just  be  discerned  thick 
masses  of  struggling  and  lighting  humanity  ;  to  hear  again  the 
shrieking  of  the  shells,  the  booming  of  tlie  guns,  and  the  moans 
of  the  dying.  Stern  i-ealities  in  the  shape  of  roofless  and  dis- 
mantled houses,  buildings  with  gaping  holes,  walls  in  ruins, 
supplied  the  necessary  stinuilus  to  one's  imagination. 

I  first  visited  203  Metre  Hill,  the  scene  of  some  of  the 
bloodiest  fights  the  world  has  ever  seen  or  heai'd  of.  An  hour's 
carriage  drive  over  terrible  roads,  but  through  ])retty  count ly, 
brought  me  to  the  foot  of  this  famous,  or  infamous,  hill — the 
highest  emiTicncc  in  the  chain  which  protected  the  west  side  of 
tlie  t()\v]i.  The  to])  of  the  hill  was  destroyed  by  the  terrible  fire 
that  was  poured  on  it ;  its  former  shape  is  no  longer  recognisable. 
After  neaily  an  hour's  climb  I  reached  the  sunmiit.  The  sides 
of  the  hill  were  everywhere  scored  and  furi'owed  with  shell- 
marks. 

Nearly  all  the  gi'ucsome  I'clics  of  the  terrible  conflict  had  been 
gutJK  red  u]).  thougli  licic  and  there  I  came  aci'oss  a  fi'agmeut 
of  a  soldier's  coat,  a  few  bones  and  some  rusty  cartridge-cases. 
On  the  top  of  the  hill  stood  the  remains  of  one  of  the  Russian 
guns,  the  stock  of  which  had  been  shattered  to  pieces  by  a  shell. 
The  carriage  coiisisted  of  only  a  few  twisted  and  rent  fragments 

i8o 


fe^ 


<\    Au'iiirK;    \    |ai' \\i-;-i-:   Mi:\mki\i 


A    1-.  iKi     \i    l'''Ki'   AKiiirK    \i  ri:i<    !;•  iMI;  \kI'Mi:\ 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  DAIRF.N  AND  PORT  ARTHUR 

of  iron  riddled  with  shot.  Tons  and  tons  of  powdered  and 
splintered  rock  were  strewn  on  the  summit. 

The  hill  commands  a  view  of  the  whole  of  the  western  and 
most  of  the  eastern  part  of  the  harbour,  and  looks  down  on  all 
the  fortified  hills  adjoining.  Commanding  as  it  does  an  extensive 
view  of  the  surrounding  country,  the  hill  was  the  veritable  key 
to  Port  Arthur.  Its  occupation  by  the  Japanese  sealed  the  doom 
of  the  fortress. 

It  was  bad  for  the  Russians  that  they  neglected  to  build 
defence  works  on  this  hill ;  for  it  was  not  till  the  two  adjoining 
hills^ — 174  Metre  Hill  and  Takagaki^ — -had  fallen  that  they 
started  fortifying  this  position.  Lines  of  trenches  and  two 
lines  of  wire  entanglements  were  then  immediately  made,  the 
trenches  being  strongly  protected  with  iron  plates  and  rails. 
All  the  world  loiows  of  the  despei'ate  efforts  made  by  the 
Japanese  to  occupy  the  ground  :  how  they  were  repulsed  time 
and  again,  leaving  behind  them  companies  of  dead  mowed  down 
by  the  Russian  fire  ;  how  it  was  not  till  after  weeks  and  weeks 
of  terrible  and  madly  heroic  fighting,  weeks  of  bombardment, 
and  attack  after  attack,  that  the  hill  at  last  was  captured.  I 
was  told  by  some  Japanese  officers  that  many  of  the  Russian 
gunners  went  raving  mad.  All  the  Russian  guns  were  trained  on 
certain  sights  carefully  measured.  The  flickering  rays  of  the 
searchlight  would  reveal  to  the  defenders  a  company  of  Japanese 
marching  to  attack.  The  deadly  white  ray  of  light  would  dwell 
on  a  mark,  and  when  the  attacking  force  came  within  the  fatal 
zone  the  Russian  guns  would  belch  their  liail  of  shot  and  shell. 
When  the  smoke  dissipated  there  was  revealed  to  the  eyes  of 
heaven  just  a  mass  of  writhing  mutilated  humanity^ — and  another 
company  of  Japanese  soldiers  marching  to  their  death  over  the 
dead  bodies  of  their  brothers  and  friends.  Fifteen  thousand  men 
fell  on  that  bloody  hill,  eight  thousand  of  them  being  Japanese. 
No  wonder  men  went  mad  ! 

I  next  visited  the  north  fort  of  East  Kei-Kwan-zan.  This  fort 
was  the  strongest  permanent  works  in  this  line  of  defence.  Here 
it  was  that  General  Krondrachenko  and  most  of  his  staff  were 

i8i 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

killed  by  one  of  the  first  eleven-inch  shells  used  by  the  Japanese 
in  their  bombardment  of  Poit  A rthur.  Tcnible  indeed  must  have 
been  tlie  fire  and  the  force  of  the  dynamite  employed  to  break 
down  tlie  massive  stone  parapet  and  defences.  Surrounded  by  a 
hu<^e  diteli  the  foii  was  all  but  impregnable.  A  mass  of  ruijis, 
gigantic  blocks  of  masonry  lying  Jierc  and  there,  twisted  and  torn 
girders,  tons  of  debris  and  shattered  stone,  met  one's  eyes  on  all 
sides.  Nature  now  has  covei-ed  a  great  part  of  the  wreckage  with 
her  peaceful  cloak  of  green  as  though  to  hide  from  view  the 
I)itiful  woik  of  Man. 

Returning,  I  passed  the  chain  of  forts  adjoining,  showing 
trenches  and  hills  scored  all  over  with  deep  holes  caused  by 
the  bursting  shells.  These  holes  in  the  hills,  viewed  from  a  dis- 
tance, presented  a  most  peculiar  sight.  At  the  foot  of  all  the  hills 
could  be  seen  little  green  graves  banked  with  stone. 

I  concluded  my  visit  to  Port  Arthur  by  inspecting  the  War 
Souvenir  Museum.  The  building  is  surrounded  by  defence  works, 
trenches,  wire  entanglements,  etc.,  and  gave  one  a  good  idea  of 
how  some  of  those  redoubtable  forts  I  had  just  visited  must  liave 
appeared  before  being  reduced  to  the  condition  in  which  they 
are  now.  Models  also  of  all  the  foi'ts  can  be  seen  by  the  en- 
lightened visitor  who  wishes  on  his  return  home  to  talk  glibly 
of  abattis,  parapets,  etc.  Captured  guns  and  cannon,  various 
weapons  and  war  materials  of  all  kinds,  includiiig  scaling  ladders, 
bomb-proof  shelters  and  hand  grenades  (soine  made  out  of 
condensed  milk  tins) — in  short,  everything  which  the  devilish 
ingenuity  and  perverted  intelligence  of  MaTi  has  invented  for  the 
destruction  of  Man,  gave  one  a  vivid  idea  of  the  horrors  of  war  ! 


182 


CHAPTER  XVI 

DOWN    THE    CFIINESE    COAST 

I  LEFT  Dairen  for  China  on  the  14th  September,  sailing  on 
the  Kobe  Maru,  one  of  the  new  steamers  that  had  just 
been  put  on  the  lun  to  Shanghai  by  the  enterprising  South 
Manchuria  Railway.  On  the  morning  of  the  16th  we  entered 
the  Yangtse. 

One  could  hardly  describe  the  Yangtse  as  picturesque,  for  its 
banks  are  low  and  flat  and  the  water  is  very  mudd}^  in  appear- 
ance. We  anchored  off  Woosang  shortly  after  noon  and  docked 
in  Shanghai  just  before  sunset.  Woosang  lies  at  the  junction  of 
the  Hwang-pu  and  the  most  southern  arm  of  the  Yangtse. 

Whilst  in  Shanghai  I  endeavoured  to  ai-range  a  passage  in 
some  westward-bound  freighter  ;  for  I  had  now  decided  to  make 
my  way  home  by  way  of  Boston,  as  I  had  pledged  myself  to 
visit  my  Alaskan  friend  thei'e — and  what  was  an  exti-a  two  or 
three  thousand  miles  to  me  then  ?  As  my  efforts  were  unsuccess- 
ful, I  decided  to  return  to  Moji,  in  Japan,  where  I  thought  I 
should  have  a  better  opportunity  of  accomplishing  my  object, 
Moji  being  a  much  frequented  coaling  port.  Fuithcrmoje,  the 
greater  part  of  my  baggage  still  remained  in  Japan,  where  I  had 
left  it  prior  to  visiting  Korea. 

On  the  evening  of  the  24th  I  left  Shanghai  in  a  Japanese  coal 
tramp.  After  a  smooth  trip  of  two  days  we  arrived  off  Kuchinotzu, 
where  the  steamer  put  in  for  orders.  Receiving  instjuctions  to 
proceed  to  Miike  to  load  a  cargo  of  coal  for  China,  wc  steamed 
for  tliat  port  and  berthed  in  the  new  Mitsui  dock  eaily  in  the 
morning.  I  spent  a  few  profitable  hours  in  Miike,  gaim'ng  an 
insight  into  the  coal  industry.  Miike  is  the  Barry  docks  of  Japan. 

Travelling  north  I  passed  some  very  pretty  scenery,  the  land 

183 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

being  in  its  autumn  cloak.  In  the  evening  I  reached  Moji.  I 
spent  a  few  days  here — fruitless  days  as  regards  the  fulfilment 
of  my  object,  but  far  from  so  in  respect  to  the  pleasant  and 
restful  time  I  passed  in  the  quiet  household  of  a  Japanese  family. 
And  I  appreciated  the  change  after  my  tiring  wanderings  in 
Korea  and  Manchuria. 

On  the  5th  October  I  said  farewell  to  Japan.  Early  in  the 
morning  of  the  12th  the  high  Peak  of  Hong-Kong  appeared  in 
view,  and  by  daylight  we  were  anchored  in  the  harbour.  Dis- 
embarkation was  decidedly  wet  work,  as  tlie  north-east  monsoon 
was  blowing  hard  and  a  typhoon  had  been  signalled  the  preced- 
ing day  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  colony. 

Perhaps  a  word  about  typhoons — the  scourge  of  the  Eastern 
Seas — may  not  prove  out  of  place  here.  In  the  Far  East  typhoons 
are  most  prevalent  during  the  months  from  July  to  October, 
that  of  September  being  the  worst.  From  December  to  May 
they  seldom  occur,  though  a  few  have  been  reported  during  this 
period.  Typhoons  are  most  frequently  met  with  in  the  vicinity 
of  Luzon  and  Hainan  Island  (Philippine  Group)  and  off  the 
south-east  corner  of  Japan^ — -roughly,  between  latitude  9°  N. 
and  45°  N.  As  a  rule  the  typhoon  originates  in  the  east  to  the 
south-east  of  the  Philippines  and  travels  in  a  west  to  north- 
westerly direction,  at  a  rate  of  anything  from  five  to  thirty 
miles  an  hour.  The  force  of  the  wind  near  the  centre  cannot  be  in 
any  way  accurately  estimated  ;  somewhere  between  one  hundred 
and  twenty  to  two  hundred  miles  per  houi-.  It  generally  seems 
to  blow  Avith  the  greatest  fuiy  when  near  the  land. 

To  the  navigator  at  sea  the  earliest  sign  is  the  appearance  of  a 
fluffy,  feathery  kind  of  cloud,  of  the  cirrus  type,^  travelling 
from  the  east  in  a  northerly  direction.  This,  coupled  with  a  rise 
in  the  barometer,  and  a  clear  dry  day,  is  generally  suflicient 
warning  to  the  observant  sailor.  The  usual  ugly  and  threatening 
appearance  of  the  weather  which  heralds  the  approach  of  most 

1  Caused,  it  is  considered,  by  a  rising  column  of  moist  air  from  the 
centre  oi  the  typhoon,  or  cyclone,  condensing  in  the  higher  levels  of  the 
atniospliere. 

184 


DOWN  THE  CHINESE  COAST 

storms  then  follows,  with  a  confused  and  tunibhng  sea  coming 
from  the  direction  in  which  the  typhoon  is  approaching.  Within 
its  immediate  vicinity- — the  danger  zone — there  is  great  baro- 
metric disturbance  (the  barometric  pressure  sometimes  falls 
to  as  low  as  28"50  inches  and  subsequently  rises  as  the  centre 
recedes). 

It  is  not  customary,  however,  for  a  mariner  to  feel  any  great 
curiosity  about  the  centre  of  a  typhoon.  If  he  be  wise,  directly 
he  notices  the  indications  that  one  is  approaching,  he  goes  full 
speed  out  of  its  track  ;  and  in  these  days  of  high-powered 
steamers  it  is  not  a  very  hard  task,  given  sufficient  time,  to 
avoid  the  course  of  these  disturbances.  In  the  days  of  the  old 
windjammer  it  was  a  more  difficult  task. 

The  United  States  Hydrographic  Office  issues  monthly  pilot 
charts  of  the  Pacific,  Atlantic  and  Indian  Oceans,  and  these 
charts  are  of  immense  assistance  to  the  navigator  in  these  waters. 
They  give  him  a  mass  of  valuable  information  regarding  the 
prevailing  winds  for  the  month,  their  force  and  direction,  the 
track  of  t\"phoons  or  other  depressions,  the  force  and  direction 
of  the  currents,  the  last  reported  jDOsition  of  derelicts,  etc. 
These  charts  are  furnished  free,  as  an  equivalent  for  service 
rendered,  to  mariners  who  assist  by  filling  in  the  daily  weather 
forms  issued  by  the  United  States  Hydrographic  Office  in  its 
work  of  collecting  and  distributing  data. 

Hong-Kong  is  one  of  the  prettiest  spots  ever  designed  by 
Nature.  The  harbour  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world.  It  consists 
of  a  sheet  of  water  between  the  island  and  the  mainland  of 
China  and  has  an  area  of  ten  square  miles.  With  its  diversified 
scenery  and  shipping,  it  always  presents  an  imposing  spectacle. 
The  town  is  picturesquely  situated,  the  houses  rising  tier  upon 
tier  on  the  face  of  the  Peak  to  a  height  of  many  hundred  feet. 
The  slopes  of  the  island  are  now  covered  with  young  forests,  the 
result  of  an  excellent  afforestation  scheme  of  the  Government, 
which  has  wonderfully  improved  the  climate  of  the  colony.  At 
night-time,  however,  Hong-Kong  is  seen  at  its  best,  and  affords 
a  sight  not  readily  forgotten. 

185 


A  WANDERER'S  TRATT. 

The  climate  of  Hong-Kong  to-day  is  as  healthy  as  it  formerly 
was  the  reverse,  the  improvement  being  due  to  the  system  of 
drainage,  and  the  afforestation  scheme  referred  to.  In  England 
the  prevailing  idea  is  that  Shanghai  and  Hong-Kong  are 
simply  graveyards  on  account  of  the  so-called  deadly  climate. 
That  might  have  been  true  of  these  places  fifty  years  back,  but 
it  is  far  from  so  to-day.  If  those  who  iiold  that  opinion  could  but 
see  some  of  the  hale  and  hearty  residents  of  these  two  ports, 
w'ho  have  lived  the  best  part  of  their  lives  there  and  have, 
besides,  managed  to  raise  very  healthy  offspring,  they  would,  I 
think,  very  speedily  change  their  eri'oneous  idea.  There  is, 
however,  one  disease,  with  the  germs  of  which  the  blood  of  all 
who  have  i  esidcd  for  any  length  of  time  in  Cathay  is  inoculated. 
It  is  a  disease  that  cannot  be  cured  ;  once  inoculated,  the  blood 
is  ever  tainted.  The  disease  is  one  known  to  the  Eastern  world 
as  maskeeitis.  Its  chief  symptom  is  the  victim's  more  or  less 
complete  indifference  to  the  trivial  worries  and  troubles  of  this 
world.  It  is  the  demonstration  of  the  true  Eastern  mood.  The 
young  "  griffin,"  hale,  full  of  vim  and  vigour,  is  at  first  aghast 
at  the  inroads  of  this  disease.  In  his  youthful  strength  he  despises 
it  ;  he  next  begins  to  respect  it  ;  then  fights  it  ;  eventually, 
he  succumbs  to  it.  One  example  :  the  "  griffin,"  after  his  first 
month  is  over,  comes  up  against  his  first  molehill,  erected  by 
an  almond-eyed  Chink.  He  fumes,  he  threatens,  he  blusters 
and  swears  ;  then  finally  confides  his  trouble  to  one  of  his  elder 
friends,  who  merely  remarks  laconically :  '"  Well,  maskee  !  " 
Disgusted  at  this  lack  of  sympathy  the  "griffin"  growls  and 
withdraws.  Another  few  months  pass  and  his  almond-eyed 
"boy"  one  morning  blandly  remarks:  "Master  have  makee 
give  away  his  one  piecee  watch  ?  "  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
ejaculates  the  startled  "griffin."  "Me  no  savee,"  calmly  re- 
marks the  "  boy."  "Me  no  can  see  ;  me  thinkee  you  makee  give 
to  No.  1  nice  girl."  "  D- — n  you  !  "  bursts  out  the  infui'iated 
"future-taipan."  "  You  catehee  oi  I  knock  h- — 1  out  of  you  !  " 
"  Can  do,"  replies  the  boy.  "  Me  again  makee  look  see."  The 
watch  is,  of  course,  not  forthcoming  ;    so  again  the  young  man 

j86 


DOWN  THE  CHINESE  COAST 

pours  his  tale  of  woe  into  the  ears  of  one  of  his  seasoned  friends, 
who  only  replies  :  "  Oh,  maskee  !  Your  boy's  stolen  it ;  sack 
liim  !  "    "  No  !    I'll   run   him   in.    I'll   go  to  the  police  now  ! 

I'll !  "  His  f  i-iends  smile  (they  know  the  Hong-Kong  police  ^) 

and  remark:  "Oh!  maskee!"  At  this  the  goaded  youth 
bursts  out :  "  D — ^n  !  Life  seems  all  maskee  !  "  Quite  right  ! 
youngster,  you're  wiser  now  than  you  were  six  months  ago. 
Life  is,  indeed,  all  maskee  ! 

I  was  fortunate  in  arianging  from  Hong-Kong  a  passage  to  the 
West.  I  struck  a  bargain  with  the  captain  of  a  westAvard-bound 
tramp  to  work  as  his  purser  to  Boston  and  to  pay  the  sum  of 
twenty  pounds.  This  saved  me  a  good  twenty  pounds.  There 
were  now  left  only  a  very  few  pounds  out  of  my  initial  capital 
of  fifty ;  just  enough,  with  careful  handling,  to  get  me  home. 
The  ship  I  joined  was  a  spar-deck  cargo  boat,  loading  a  general 
cargo  for  America.  She  had  already  part  loaded  in  Japan  and 
had  yet  to  load  in  the  Straits  Settlements  before  starting  her 
voyage  westward. 

When  we  were  on  the  eve  of  leaving  Hong-Kong,  the  approach 
of  a  t\^hoon  was  signalled.  The  t\^hoon  cones  were  raised 
early  in  the  morning.  Towards  afternoon  the  wind  increased, 
and  more  ugly  and  threatening  became  the  weather.  The  whole 
harbour  was  now  emptied  of  its  small  craft.  A  few  lighters  lay 
alongside  our  steamer,  from  which  we  were  quickly  loading  the 
last  remnants  of  our  cai'go,  the  coolies  working  against  time 
so  as  to  get  away.  Pitiful  almost  was  their  fear  that  they  would 
be  detained  too  long  !  At  last  they  cast  off  their  lines,  willy-nilly, 
although  some  of  the  cargo  was  not  yet  on  board.  All  the 
steamers  lying  in  the  liarbour  had  steam  up  ;  an  imcanny  air 
of  suspense  pervaded  the  atmosphere.  All  were  waiting  for  the 
t\^hoon  to  strike.  When  the  sun  sank,  it  sank  amidst  clouds  of 
fearful  shape,  all  tinted  with  that  ominous  oi-angc-gold  hue, 
devilishly  beautiful,  but  with  a  beauty  that  speedily  puts  the 

'  Hong-Kong  is  the  worst  policed  city  in  the  Ivast.  The  babel  and 
pandemonium  at  all  hours  of  the  night,  its  three-times-a-weclc  robberies, 
would  make  a  Moorish  city  blush. 

187 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

fear  of  God  into  one  at  sea !  Towards  midnight  thewind  increased 
into  a  gale.  Our  second  anchor  was  dropped.^  From  then,  how- 
ever, the  wind  lessened  in  force.  In  the  morning  we  learnt  that 
the  typhoon  had  passed  to  the  eastward,  Hong-Kong  having 
just  escaped  from  being  in  its  track.  Therefore  only  stormy 
weather  had  reached  us. 

By  noon  we  had  left  Hong-Kong  and  were  steaming  south  for 
Singapore.  A  smooth  passage  of  six  days  brought  us  to  that 
island.  We  anchored  off  the  town  shortly  after  daybreak  and 
it  was  not  long  before  the  hatches  were  off  and  the  winches 
busily  hauling  up  cargo. 

It  took  us  eight  days  to  complete  loading.  During  this  time  I 
had  plenty  of  opportunity  to  visit  the  town  and  its  outskirts, 
though,  apart  from  some  beautiful  ti'opical  foliage,  there  was 
little  with  which  to  occupy  one's  attention. 

We  left  Singapore  on  the  evening  of  the  28th  and  steamed 
through  the  Malacca  Straits  for  Penang.  On  the  morning  of 
the  30th  we  sighted  the  island  and  anch.ored  off  the  town 
shortly  after  noon.  The  entrance  to  Pulo  Penang  needs  careful 
navigation,  owing  to  the  mudbanks  that  lie  close  to  the  deep- 
water  channel.  ]Many  fishing  stakes  also  have  to  be  avoided. 

It  rained  for  a  good  part  of  the  time  that  we  lay  off  Penang, 
and  this  considerably  delayed  the  loading  of  our  cargo,  as  much 
of  the  produce  was  perishable.  The  rainfall  of  the  island  is  fairly 
heavy  owing  to  the  influence  of  the  regular  monsoons,  and  rain 
falls  more  or  less  during  all  seasons  of  the  year.  The  climate 
is  nevertheless  not  unhealthy,  being  somewhat  similar  to,  say, 
that  of  the  Canary  Islands.  Tlie  climate  of  Singapore,  though 
lying  just  a  degree  north  of  the  equator,  is  also  good. 

Penang  settlement  includes  the  island — about  one  hundred 
and  seven  square  miles  m  area — and  a  strip  of  land  on  the 
opposite  coast,  known  as  the  Wellesley  Pj'ovince  ;  also  some 
small  islands,  the  Dindings.     A  narrow  strait,  varying  from 

'  In  the  typhoons  of  '06  and  'oS  full-powered  steamers  lying  in  the 
harbour   were   dragging   their   anchors — and   yet   steaming   full   speed 

ahead  ' 

188 


•*<t  4  *_ 


. .   ) 


DOAVN  THE  CHINESE  COAST 

two  to  ten  miles  in  width,  separates  Penang  Island  lioni  the 
mainland.  This  settlement  has  been  in  British  hands  since  the 
days  of  the  East  India  Company,  having  been  ceded  to  them  in 
1786  by  the  Rajah  of  Kedah.  Penang  soon  eclipsed  the  settle- 
ment of  Malacca,  one  of  the  Straits  Settlements,  and  was  elevated 
to  the  rank  of  a  presidency.  In  1826  Penang  and  Malacca  were 
incorporated,  together  with  Singapore,  and  all  designated  by  the 
title  they  to-day  retain.  The  increased  prosperity  of  Singapore, 
however,  correspondingly  decreased  that  of  Penang  ;  so  the 
principal  seat  of  government  was  transferred  to  the  former 
settlement. 

Penang  has  a  certain  amomit  of  importance  as  a  con- 
venient coaling  and  naval  station.  It  is  also  the  virtual  seat  of 
government  for  the  Province  of  Wellesley,  which  must  always 
remain  an  important  centre  of  British  influence.  Penang's 
produce  for  export  is  not  inconsiderable.  Spices,  cocoa-nut 
and  tapioca  are  sent  away  in  fair  quantities  and  the  island  has 
also  souiC  trade  with  the  Dutch  Settlements  in  Sumatra.  The 
betel-nut  (the  name  "  Penang  "  being  the  Malay  for  betel-nut) 
is  also  lai-gely  grown  in  the  island. 

We  finished  loading  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd  November, 
and  by  noon  had  started  our  voyage  to  America. 


1^9 


CHAPTER    XVI 1 

FROM    THE    STRAITS    TO    EAST    AMERICA    VIA    SUEZ 

STEERING  a  course  N.  85°  W.,  wc  passed  Pulo  Perak  at 
nine  o'clock.  The  following  day  we  had  left  the  island 
of  Sumatra  in  our  wake.  When  out  of  the  Malacca 
Straits  wc  steamed  due  west.  The  weather  was  lovely,  hot  and 
sunny,  yet  cooled  by  the  south-west  monsoon,  which  was  all 
but  at  an  end. 

As  wc  were  not  going  to  coal  until  we  reached  Perim  Island 
(at  the  entrance  to  the  Red  Sea),  we  had  taken  on  l)oard  a  large 
quantity  of  coal  in  Singapore  ;  not  only  in  the  bunkers  but  also 
on  deck.  I  used,  therefore,  to  spend  one  hoiii-  every  afternoon 
in  the  self-imposed  task  of  shovelling  coal  fi'om  the  deck  into 
the  bunkers.  It  was  excellent  exercise  and  also  made  me 
appreciate  a  good  bath.  I  spent  my  mornings  with  the  ship's 
papers — manifest,  crew  and  cu^^tom  lists,  etc. — which  kept  me 
nicely  employed.  I  fear  by  now  much  of  tlie  novelty  of  life  on 
board  a  f leight  steamer  had  worn  off ;  the  old  Santolo  had  helped 
considerably  in  that  direction.  Still  an\-thing  in  connection  with 
the  navigation  of  the  vessel  attracted  me  just  as  keenly  as  ever, 
and  I  spent  many  hours  with  the  captain  in  his  chartroom  and 
with  the  officers  on  the  bridge.  It  was  not  lojig  before  my  purser's 
job  was  interpreted  as  that  of  fourth  of  lice  r.  Many  evenings  we 
practised  the  ^loi-se  Code,  signalling  to  each  other  and  to  passing 
steame]-s.  P.  &  O.  mail  steamers  now  and  then  condescended 
to  answer  us  ;  we  ^vere  only  a  tramp  ! 

On  the  8th  wc  passed  Poiirt  de  Cialle,  the  most  southerly  port 
in  Ceylon,  now  quite  outi'ivalled  by  Colombo.  We  ran  in  near 
the  shore  and  signalled  the  ship's  iiame  aiid  number  to  Lloyd's 
station  there,  with  the  recpiest  to  be  reported  to  our  owncis. 


FROM  THE  STRAITS  TO  EAST  AMERICA 

It  was  full  moon  that  night.  It  had  risen  alter  a  very  beautiful 
sunset.  There  is  a  great  peace  and  calm  in  the  nights  on  the 
Indian  Ocean. 

After  a  week  of  lovely  weather  we  sighted  Sokotra  Island. 
We  kept  well  clear  of  the  shore,  as  the  currents  are  strong  and 
dangerous,  skirting  the  northern  part  of  the  island.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  African  coast  came  in  view.  The  north-east 
monsoon  was  blowing  fairly  hard  when  at  daybreak,  two  days 
afterwards,  we  sighted  the  high  mountains  behind  Aden.  We 
passed  within  sight  of  the  town,  the  sandy  soil  being  clearly 
visible  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  With  the  Arabian  coast 
in  sight  all  day  we  reached  the  island  of  Perim  at  sundown. 

Entering  Perim  we  had  a  very  narrow  squeak  of  going  full 
speed  on  the  rocks,  owing  to  the  steering  gear  jamming  at  the 
critical  moment.  When  just  about  to  enter,  the  captain  gave  the 
order  to  the  quartermaster  at  the  wheel  to  put  the  helm  hard 
over.  At  tliat  moment  our  attention  on  the  bridge  was  attracted 
by  certain  signals  that  were  being  morsed  to  us  from  the  shore. 
But  only  for  a  moment ;  for  the  fact  of  the  ship's  course  not 
altering  drew  the  notice  of  all.  Turning  to  the  quartermaster, 
the  captain  snapped  :  "Hard  a'port — I  told  you  !  "  The  stupid 
helmsman— a  Malay — replied  :  "  No  can  turn,  no  can  turn 
wheel  !  "  In  a  flash  it  dawned  on  all  of  us  that  insufficient  steam 
had  been  turned  on ;  hence  the  wheel  was  jammed.  I  was  the 
nearest  to  the  companion-way,  and  almost  before  the  words 
were  out  of  the  captain's  mouth  I  was  rushing  aft,  barking  my 
shins  badly  in  doing  so,  to  turn  on  more  steam  on  the  steering- 
engine.  The  captain,  immediately  he  saw  the  position,  rang  down 
for  the  engines  to  go  full  speed  astej-n.  Three  times^ — four  times 
■ — ^in  his  anxiety  he  rang  for  extra  full  speed  astern.  The  ship's 
%vay  slowly  decreased — ^but  oh  !  so  slowl}'- — and  by  the  time  the 
helm  could  be  put  over  the  steamei-  only  cleared  the  breakers 
by  a  few  yards.  They  were  very  anxious  and  trying  moments  ! 
I  can  still  hear  the  captain's  heartfelt  cry  :  "  My  God  !  I've  lost 
my  ship  now  !  " 

Perim,  at  the  best  of  times,  is  not  an  easy  port  to  enter,  as  a 

191 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

very  strong  current  generally  runs  athwart  the  entrance.  The 
island  is  a  British  possession.  It  occupies  an  excellent  position 
as  a  coaling  station  and  from  a  strategical  point  of  view  is  also 
important.  Otherwise  it  is  of  small  value ;  the  soil  is  poor  and 
spai-sely  covered  with  coarse  grass  and  stunted  shrubs.  The 
island  is  of  coral  foundation,  the  subsoil  being  sand.  All  the  coal 
stocked  there  is  Welsh,  imported  by  the  Perim  Coal  Company. 

By  midnight  we  had  finished  coaling  and  shoitly  afterwards 
steamed  out.  Our  course  now  lay  through  the  Straits  of  Bab-el- 
Mandcb,  which  are  no  more  than  fourteen  miles  at  their  greatest 
width.  Just  bcfoi-e  daybreak  we  passed  Moklia,  one  of  the  chief 
trading  ports  on  the  east  coast  of  tlic  Red  Sea,  in  the  Yemen 
province  of  Arabia.  This  is  one  of  the  Turkish  possessions. 

TJie  Red  Sea  is  of  great  depth — in  some  places  being  over 
one  thousand  fathoms — but  is  studded  with  rocky  islets  and 
hidden  coral  banks,  even  in  the  eliannel  used  by  steamers. 
Cautious  navigation  is  therefore  essential.  This  is  rather  more  the 
case  in  the  southern  than  in  the  northei'n  parts. 

We  passed  one  large  group  of  rocky  islands,  the  Zebayir 
Group,  in  tjic  afternoon,  and  when  dark  we  sighted  the  light  of 
Jebcl  Tcir- — another  high  rocky  islaiid. 

The  shores  on  botji  sides  of  the  Red  Sea  are  flat  and  sandy, 
high  ranges  of  mountains  stretching  behind  on  both  sides.  The 
Red  Sea  and  its  littoral  migiit  1)e  almost  termed  a  valley  be- 
tween two  high  ranges  of  momitains-~t]ie  l()f^y  ta])l(^lands  of 
Arabia  on  the  east  and  the  mountainous  heights  of  Africa  on  the 
west.  The  Red  Sea  is  not  exactly  tlic  colour  the  name  would 
suggest.  The  origin  of  the  name  is  faniiliai-  to  us  all — on  account 
of  so  nuich  red  spawn  of  fish  at  times  noticeable  in  these  waters. 
Only  once  did  I  catch  sight  of  ])atehes  of  this  s])awn. 

The  weather  was  then  ficsh  and  cool.  Dui-ing  the  months  of 
Jnly  and  August  it  is  not  uneoninion  for  the  thennomc^ler  at 
m'ght-time  to  register  105°  ;  iiideed,  the  Red  Sea  during  these 
months  is,  not  even  excepting  the  Persian  Ciulf,  the  hottest  place 
in  the  world. 

At  noon  of  the  fourth  day  we  ])assed  the  island  of  St  John  and 

192 


FROM  THE  STRAITS  TO  EAST  AMERICA 

a  little  later  the  large  reef  of  the  Daedalus.  Early  morning  the 
day  following  we  entered  the  Gulf  of  Suez.  On  the  promontory 
that  lies  between  this  gulf  and  the  Gulf  of  Akaba  is  the  momitain 
group  of  Jcbel  Musa,  whieh  includes  Mount  Sinai.  As  no  river 
of  any  description  discharges  itself  into  the  Red  Sea,  it  is  not 
sur])rising  that  much  of  the  region  around  is  a  rainless  desert. 

We  anchored  off  Suez  at  noon  of  the  23rd,  the  passage  through 
tlic  Red  Sea  having  occu2)ied  five  days.  The  distance  from  Perim 
to  Suez  is  about  twelve  hundred  miles.  Since  the  opening  of  the 
Canal  the  port  of  Suez  has  suffered  considerably  in  importance 
and  in  trade.  It  used  to  be  the  seat  of  transit  for  the  bulk  of  the 
trade  between  the  East  and  West  ;  to-day  but  little  commerce 
passes  through  its  hands.  Within  a  stone's-throw  hes  Port 
Tewfik  at  the  entrance  to  the  Canal.  This  port  might  almost  be 
termed  the  port  of  the  Canal,  as  all  the  Canal  offices  are  situated 
there. 

Having  obtained  pratique  we  entered  the  Canal.  It  was 
then  sundown.  We  carried  our  usual  lights  in  addition  to  a 
])0wcrful  searclilight  installed  by  the  Canal  authorities  at  a  cost 
to  the  ship  of  ten  pounds.  The  powerful  rays  of  the  searchlight 
guided  the  pilot  in  charge  of  the  steamer.  At  times  this  reminded 
me  of  steaming  up  the  Yukon. 

Suez  Canal  dues  are  a  big  item  in  the  disbursement  account  of 
a  ship  pa'^sing  through.  Passenger  dues  are  ten  francs  per  head 
(adult),  whilst  cargo  dues  are  charged  on  the  net  tonnage,  by 
Canal  measurement  (crew-accommodation,  engine-room  space, 
etc.,  being  excluded).  The  takings  of  the  Canal  Comjmny  for  the 
year  1911  amounted  to  134,010,000  francs. 

Aftei-  steaming  for  two  hours  from  Port  Tewfik  we  tied  up 
at  the  first  garc  to  allow  a  southward-bound  steamer  to  pass  by. 
No  ship  is  allowed  to  steam  through  the  Canal  at  a  speed  greater 
than  five  and  one-thii'd  knots  per  hour  ;  otherwise  the  wash 
would  soon  destroy  the  banks,  as  the  width  in  parts  is  under 
two  hundred  feet.  No  ship  is  allowed  to  pass  another  without 
one  of  them  tying  up.  The  pilot  in  charge  alone  decides  whieh 
ship  has  the  right  of  way.  Mail  ships  have  preference  over  all 
N  193 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

others — even  warships.  Consequently  tliey  fly  a  special  signal 
— during  tlie  day  a  distinguishing  flag  at  the  foremast  and  at 
night  a  white  light.  No  ship,  except  in  tlie  most  urgent  circum- 
stances, is  allowed  to  anchor;  nor  under  any  circumstances  are 
ashes  or  refuse  to  be  thrown  into  the  Canal. 

Wheii  we  had  tied  up  oui-  searchlight  and  course  lights  were 
extinguished,  four  lights  instead  being  showji  on  the  side  where 
the  chamiel  was  clear.  The  outward-bound  vessel  passed  within 
stone's-throw  of  us  hugging  the  bank.  Pilots  have  orders  to 
]'un  tlieir  shi])s  aground  rather  than  risk  a  collision,  and  the 
resultant  damage  has  to  be  borne  by  the  ship  at  fault.  Tiiough 
a  captain  is  bound  by  the  rules  of  the  Canal  to  take  a  Canal  pilot, 
the  responsibility  of  the  ship  is  still  with  him  ;  for  the  pilot  is  only 
there  to  give  the  captain  the  benefit  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
rules  of  the  Canal  and  to  advise  him  as  to  wliat  to  do.  The  pilot 
does  not  hold  himself  resjDonsible  for  the  steering  of  the  ship, 
the  correctness  of  which  is  of  vital  importance. ^ 

Tying  up  once  oi-  twice,  we  passed  through  the  Bitter  Lakes 
and  Lake  Timsah  and  reached  Ismailia  shortly  after  one  o'clock 
in  the  moj'ning.  Ismailia  is  the  central  station  of  the  Canal  ; 
here  ships  may  anchor. 

From  Ismailia  we  steamed  thi'ough  Lake  Ballah,  a  lagoon,  to 
Kantai'a  ;  the  banks  here  are  lined  with  low  sandhills.  From 
Kantara  the  Canal  runs  through  the  old  bed  of  L;ike  Menzalch 
to  Poi't  Said.  On  the  east  side  of  the  bed  of  this  lake  lies  a  dry, 
flat  sandy  plain,  scarcely  higher  than  the  level  of  the  water  ; 
the  gi'ound  on  the  ^^•est  is  even  slightly  lo^vel■.  banks  of  firm  mud 
alone  scpai'ating  the  Canal  from  the  flood  of  this  lowland 
consequent  on  a  '"  high  Nile." 

\Ve  were  iiioored  off  Port  Said  by  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  ])assagt'  tlirough  the  Canal  had  taken  us  fifteen  hours. 
Slioi'ily  after  breakfast  we  began  to  coal. 

1  The  ,'^ucz  Canal  being,  as  it  is  to-day,  witlioiit  a  competitor,  tiic 
autlionties  can  frame  rules  on  the  "Heads  I  win — Tails  you  lose" 
princi])l(-.  It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  this  will  continue  to  be  the 
case  when  the  Panama  Canal  is  open. 

194 


FROM  THE  STRAITS  TO  EAST  AMERICA 

Port  Said  has  a  very  strict  rule  that  steamers  are  not  to  sound 
sirens  in  any  part  of  the  port,  except  as  alarm  signals  in  case  of 
danger.  The  ubiquitous  warship  even  is  requested  not  to  indulge 
in  salute  firing.  Salutes  have  frequently  extinguished  the  light 
in  the  buoys,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  seriously  damaged 
them. 

We  left  late  in  the  afternoon,  passing  on  our  way  out  the 
monument  erected  to  the  creator  of  the  Canal — ^De  Lesseps. 
Entering  the  JNIediterranean  we  found  a  big  sea  running.  For  two 
days  we  had  bad  weather,  squally,  with  strong  winds  blowing. 
Leaving  the  North  African  shore  we  sighted  Candia  Island  early 
in  the  morning  of  the  28th.  The  sun  was  just  rising  as  we  passed 
abeam  of  the  island  and  its  early  rays  fell  on  the  snow-clad 
hills,  presenting  a  very  picturesque  scene. 

The  following  morning  we  sighted  Mount  Etna.  To  avoid  the 
strong  current  we  steamed  close  in  to  the  shores  of  Sicily,  catch- 
ing sight  of  pretty  vineyards  and  white  buildings,  which  recalled 
to  me  romantic  stories  of  Sicilian  life. 

At  midnight  we  passed  Cape  Bon  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
following  day  we  had  left  in  our  wake  the  Fratelli  Rocks. 
Towards  sunset  of  the  next  day  we  sighted  the  town  of  Algiers. 
The  nearer  we  approached  the  more  beautiful  it  looked.  By  day 
Algiei's  is  a  most  beautiful  sight,  the  city,  built  like  an  amphi- 
theatre, shining  white  in  the  sun's  rays.  By  night  it  is- — well, 
it  is  a  second  Hong-Kong  !  I  cannot  pay  it  a  higher  compli- 
ment than  that. 

As  the  day  dawned  it  was  a  lovely  sight  to  see  the  lights  of 
the  town  paling  in  the  light  of  growing  day,  till  one  by  one 
they  were  all  extinguished. 

During  the  day  I  roamed  about  the  town  and  w^as  charmed 
Avith  its  beauty,  as  also  with  that  of  the  comitry  round.  I  came 
back  to  the  ship  in  the  evening,  vowing  that  when  I  had  made 
my  fortune  I  would  retire  to  Algiers. 

Algiers  seeined  to  me  to  be  the  meeting-place  of  the  East  and 
West ;  the  life  there  is  cosmopolitan  and  yet  Oriental.  The  gay 
Frenchman  and  the  dark-visaged  Auib  live  side  by  side. 

195 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

I  wandered  througli  tlic  native  part  of  the  toM'n,  jjecping  into 
the  pretty  couityai'ds  of  the  residences.  Numerous  dark-eyed 
maidens  would  pass  by,  and  thougli  one  could  only  see  their  eyes 
they  were  well  worth  gazing  at.  I  spent  the  day  mui'dering  the 
beautiful  French  language  and  I  can  still  recall  the  look  of  be- 
wilderment on  one  tram  conductor's  face  at  one  idiomatic  (or 
idiotic  ?)  phrase  of  mine. 

When  coaling  was  finished  we  steamed  away.  It  was  late 
in  the  (.evening  and  the  lights  of  Algiers  fading  gradually  in  the 
distance  were  my  last  impression  of  that  town. 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  evening  we  crossed  the  0°  meridian, 
and  I  knew  that  I  had  completely  encircled  the  globe.  During 
my  wanderings  I  had  always  gone  west,  never  turning  my  face 
to  the  east  for  any  length  of  time. 

The  day  following  our  departure  was  very  hot  ;  the  ^vatcrs 
of  the  ]\Iediteri'anean  were  like  glass.  In  the  morning  watch  we 
])assed  a  small  bark  lying  Ijccalmed,  not  a  breath  of  aii-  inoving 
her  lifeless  sails.  Never  was  oiie  more  convinced  of  the  pi'ogress 
— if  only  inatcrial — of  Man  in  the  last  few  decades  than  by  the 
example  given  us  in  that  poor  old  windjannner  lying  helpless 
at  the  mcicy  of  the  elements. 

Skirtingthe  coasts  of  Spain,  we  caught  sigJit  of  high  momitains 
covered  with  snow.  The  Rock  of  Gibialtar  was  parsed  just  Ix'forc 
sundown.  We  kept  close  in  to  avoid  the  strong  current  and  so 
obtained  a  clear  view  of  the  fortifications  ajid  guns,  and  of  the 
town  a  little  distance  away.  We  repoiled  ourselves  to  Lloyd's 
static]!  as  we  passed. 

It  was  dark  when  we  had  passed  Cape  Spai'tcl.  We  were  now  in 
the  Atlantic,  and  our  course  was  changed  to  west  l)y  noilli.  After 
two  davs'  steaming  we  began  to  feel  a  heavy  swell  fiom  the 
north-west,  which  told  us  of  a])]noaehi]ig  batl  weathei-.  The 
iiddles  were  now  attached  to  the  tables  in  the  saloon  and 
]'eniaine(l  a  permanent  iixture  till  we  berthed  in  Boston. 

Oil  the  morning  cT  the  0th  we  sighted  and  ])asscd  the  ^Vestc•rn 
Islands,  better  known  as  I  he  Azores. 

Tliat  evening  I  witnessed — for  the  fii'st  and  only  time — a  j'ain- 

196 


FROM  THE  STRAITS  TO  EAST  AMERICA 

bow  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  a  very  picturesque  and  unusual 
sight  ! 

For  the  next  three  days  we  had  moderate  weather.  We  then 
ran  into  a  strong  south-west  gale  and  the  steamer  shipped  some 
heavy  seas.  Thenceforward  we  encountered  very  stormy  weather 
—typical  of  the  North  Atlantic  in  mid-winter  ! 

Strong  westerly  and  nor'-westerly  gales,  many  of  hurricane 
force,  met  us  daily,  our  run  some  days  being  very  small.  That 
of  the  17th  was  one  hundred  and  twelve  miles  against  the  normal 
run  of  two  hundred  and  forty.  The  farther  north  we  got  the  colder 
became  the  weather,  hail  and  sleet  squalls  being  frequent. 

On  the  morning  of  the  18th  we  got  out  of  the  Gulf  Stream. 
Its  force,  coupled  with  that  of  the  strong  seas  against  us,  had 
greatly  impeded  our  progress  ;  so  much  so  that  we  found  we 
were  running  short  of  coal  and  that  we  had  not  sufficient  to 
take  us  into  Boston.  It  was  consequently  decided  to  replenish 
our  bunkers  in  Halifax,  and  the  ship's  course  was  accordingly 
altered.  On  the  18th  a  heavy  snowfall  whitened  the  ship's  decks 
and  riggings  :  tlie  whistle  sounded  continuously,  so  obscured 
was  the  weather,  the  danger  of  collision  being  accentuated  by 
the  fact  that  we  were  now  in  the  regular  track  of  shipping. 

By  night-time  of  the  following  day  we  sighted  the  lights  of 
Halifax,  having  passed  Sable  Island  early  in  the  morning.  No 
one  on  the  ship  had  entered  this  port  before  ;  so,  when  it  was 
found  that  the  flashes  of  Sambro  Island  light  disagreed  with  the 
direction  book  for  some  reason  or  other,  the  captain  decided 
to  wait  for  daylight  before  approaching  the  land.  The  ship  was 
consequently  turned  about  and  we  "  stood  on  and  off  "  all  night 
till  daybreak,  when  a  pilot  vessel  came  out  to  meet  us. 

We  were  compelled  to  steam  in  slowly  as  a  heavy  snowstorm 
was  blowing.  The  day  of  our  arrival  was  Sunday,  which  meant 
we  could  ol:)tain  no  coal  that  day.  I  obtained  only  a  glimpse  of 
the  town  under  its  snowy  cloak,  as  I  preferred  to  hug  the  fire  in 
the  saloon. 

Coaling  commenced  at  midnight  and  by  daybreak  we  were 
under  way  again.  We  steamed  south-west,  skirting  the  coasts 

197 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

of  Nova  Scotia  ;  by  midnight  we  were  abeam  of  Cape  Sable — 
the  extreme  south-western  point  of  that  territory. 

We  had  the  worst  possible  weather  with  us  till  we  pieked  up 
the  Boston  pilot  off  the  lightship  ;  even  then  it  was  blowing  a 
gale,  which,  however,  hardly  worried  the  staunch  whale-boat 
that  brought  the  pilot  on  board.  As  we  entered  the  harbour 
we  met  many  fishing  trawlers  outward  bound,  and  I  thought 
of  what  a  hard  and  perilous  occupation  such  must  be  in  the 
winter-time,  when  gales  and  snowstorms  are  the  rule  and  not 
the  exception.  So  cold  and  so  biting  was  the  wind  that  the 
steam  from  our  whistle,  as  it  condensed  into  water,  froze  immedi- 
ately into  icicles  ;  all  the  steam  pipes  on  deck  were  frozen,  small 
fires  underneath  having  to  be  kindled  to  thaw  them  out.  Fancy 
fishing  in  that  weather  !  I  thought  that  I  would  prefer  to  be  a 
purser  on  a  tramp  rather  than  a  captain  of  a  fishing  trawler  in 
the  North  Atlantic. 

By  noon  on  23rd  December  we  were  berthed  in  the  docks 
in  Boston,  our  voyage  from  the  East  of  fifty-one  days  being 
at  an  end. 


198 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

EAST   AMERICA   AND   RETURN   TO   ENGLAND 

OUR  arrival  in  Boston  was  just  two  days  before 
Christmas,  so  we  were  all  hoping  that  we  should 
celebrate  the  day  on  dry  land,  especially  as  our 
steamer  had  a  good  deal  of  cargo  for  this  port.  But  no  !  with 
true  commercial  spirit  the  owners  kicked  us  out  late  on 
Christmas  Eve  for  New  York,  to  avoid  the  waste  of  one  day 
through  the  ship  lying  idle  at  the  docks.  I  fancied  I  could  hear 
the  worthy  sliipowner  in  church  on  Christmas  morn  mumbling 
with  unctuous  voice :  "We  have  done  those  things  which  we 
ought  not  to  have  done  "  and  at  the  same  time  wondering 
whether  the  boat  cleared  in  time. 

I  spent,  however,  quite  a  pleasant  Christmas  on  board  the 
Asomihs,  with  plenty  of  nice  things  to  eat.  It  was  certainly 
a  much  more  festive  Christmas  than  the  pi'eceding  one,  which 
was  spent,  it  will  be  recalled,  under  the  hatches  in  the  old 
Saiitolo. 

Our  tjip  to  New  York  was  uneventful.  It  was  early  in  the 
morning  of  Boxing  Day  when  we  picked  up  our  New  York  pilot 
off  Sandy  Hook.  Shortly  afterwards  I  set  eyes  on  the  Statue  of 
Liberty  that  protects  so  well  the  dishonest  pork  butcher  and 
bank  embezzler  but  not  too  well  the  poor  waifs  of  humanity 
like  you  and  me,  reader.  As  we  approached,  the  huge  sky- 
scrapers of  New  York  in  the  distance  looked  like  a  row  of 
tombstones  ! 

We  anchored  off  Staten  Island  after  breakfast.  Here  I  signed 
off  the  ship's  articles  and  leceived  my  discharge  ;  but,  unfor- 
tunately, nothing  more  !  I  had  to  do  consideiable  manauvring 
to  avoid  paying  head  tax.   Many  were  the  seemingly  casual 

199 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

questions  put  to  me  by  sundry  immigration  officials  :  "  Ai'e  you 
quitting  the  ship  here,  eh  ?  "  "  Why,  no,  guess  I'll  do  another 
trip  in  the  old  tub  "  was  always  my  innocent  reply.  I  had  learnt 
my  lesson  well  in  'Frisco. 

Dee])  as  are  America's  immigi-ation  officials,  deeper  still  are 
her  custom  officers.  What  the  latter  do  not  know  of  "  bumming  " 
in  (vencral  is  not  worth  knowinif.  What  a  number  of  feelers  were 
put  out  to  ascertain  from  the  purser  of  the  .Isomihsthe  dutiable 
goods  tlu'i'c  were  on  board  !  And  how  kind  it  was  of  one  custom 
officer  to  go  to  all  the  trouble  of  carrying  through  the  gates  tlie 
purser's  kit  bag  witli  Japanese  silk  inside  ! 

At  first  sight  New  York  struck  me  as  a  very  mei'ciless  place. 
I  would  not  care  to  find  myself  stranded  in  that  city.  There 
seemed  such  a  homeless  aspect  about  things.  Of  course,  Xew 
York's  size  rather  tends  to  give  a  stranger  tliat  impression, 
particularly  if  he  be  not  too  well  endowed  with  this  world's 
goods. 

Everybody  in  New  York  seemed  to  be  very  busy,  especially 
those  who  were  doing  nothing.  Really  I  think  the  nmch-talked- 
of  "  hustling  "  of  Americans  is  just  a  big  bluff.  A  man  in  the 
U.S.A.  flics  down  at  a  breakneck  speed  in  an  elevator  to  save 
time,  only  to  waste  it  with  the  "  guy  "  in  the  cigar  store  at  tlie 
bottom.  He  bolts  his  meals  at  a  "  quick-lunch  "  counter  to  idle 
an  hour  in  a  barber's  shop.  He  tears  out  of  the  theatre  before 
the  curtain  drops  to  fritter  away  half-an-hour  in  an  adjoiiiing 
saloon.  I  have  an  idea  that  more  time  is  wasted  in  America  by 
hustling  than  saved.  A  man  who  always  looks  busy  is  generally 
a  slacker  ! 

Bari'ing  meeting  an  Australian  who  spoke  decent  English, 
nothing  very  thrilling  happened  to  me  whilst  in  New  York. 
I  roamed  round  the  city  and  got  a  glimpse  of  both  its  dai'k  and 
bright  side.  The  crowds  everywhere  were  most  cosmopolitan. 
Howevei-,  in  more  than  one  street  I  caught  sight  of  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  name  over  a  shop  !  What  rather  astonished  me  was  the 
siglit  of  hoi'.sc-trams  in  one  part  of  the  city  ;  this  was  due,  I  was 
told,   to  some   municipal   technicality.   1    had  one  very  good 

200 


EAST  AMERICA  AND  RETURN  TO  ENGLAND 

luncheon  in  New  York.  That  was  in  the  Down  Town  Club.  I 
felt  quite  like  a  New  Yorker  after  it. 

After  a  week  I  returned  to  Boston.  Here  I  met  my  Klondykc 
friend,  S . 

Of  Boston  I  took  away  very  pleasant  recollections.  It  is  a 
most  homelike  town.  Other  things  than  the  worship  of  the 
Almighty  Dollar  occupy  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants.  The 
Bostonians  are  very  cultured — and  beastly  aristocratic !  One 
half  of  them  owns  ancestors  who  came  over  in  the  Mayflower  ; 
the  other  half  possesses  tombstones  in  Surrey  and  Hampshire 
villages.  The  elite  call  the  town  Borston  ! 

One  of  the  chief  topics  of  conversation  with  visitors,  who  hail 
from  a  land  where  all  are  thought  to  drop  their  "  h's  "  and  turn 
up  their  trousers,  is  the  War  of  Independence.  It  is  still  fresh  in 
the  Bostonian's  mind,  while  that  small  episode  of  the  dumping 
of  tea-chests  in  Boston  harbour  wears  the  air  of  a  com- 
paratively recent  occurrence.  This  latter  incident  my  host,  out 
of  delicacy  to  my  patriotic  feehngs,  decided  to  call  "  a  regret- 
table incident."  I  did  endeavour  to  suggest  that  we  on  our  part 
regarded  it  as  an  ancient  and  forgotten  joke — but  I  was  not  per- 
mitted to  continue.  I  w^as  certainly  helped  in  thinking  I  was 
right  after  a  chat  with  the  mate  of  a  steamer  that  was  lying  in 
the  liarboui'.  She  was  an  English  boat  and  the  mate  was  a  York- 
shireman.  We  were  yarning  on  smidry  subjects  when  I  suddenly 
asked  him:  "Tell  me,  where  is  the  spot  the  tea-chests  were 
dumped  overboard  ?  "  My  companion  gazed  vacantly  at  me  for 
a  moment  ;  then  replied  :  "  What  tea-chests  ?  "  Verb.  sap. 

I  spent  New  Year's  Eve  at  a  smoking  concert.  To  the  strains 
of  "Auld  Lang  Syne"  we  fraternised  and  forgot  all  past 
"  differences." 

The  weather  in  Boston  was  very  cold,  though  bracing.  I  felt 
the  cold  extremely  after  the  heat  of  the  tropics.  All  the  houses 
were  steam-heated  and  sometimes  became  unbearably  hot. 
Particularly  was  this  the  case  with  the  offices.  It  is  not  surprising 
therefore  that  American  doctors  reap  every  ^sinter  a  good 
harvest  with  cases  of  "  grij^."  "  Grip,"  I  would  mention  foj'  the 

201 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

benefit  of  those  uninitiated  in  the  mysteries  of  the  American 
language,  here  means  a  species  of  influenza  ;  and  not  a  Glad- 
stone bag  (as  I  informed  the  reader  on  an  earlier  page). 

My  stay  in  East  America  was  too  short  for  me  to  gain  any 
very  deep  impression  of  either  New  York  or  Boston.  But  both 
towns  gave  me  the  desire  to  visit  them  again  ;  and  I  could 
express  this  wish  with  regard  to  few  cities  I  have  visited.  I  par- 
ticularly want  to  live  in  New  York  again — to  beat  it !  By  that  I 
mean  to  conquer  that  weakness  of  feeling  at  a  loss  there.  With 
Boston  I  want  to  renew  my  acquaintance,  if  only  to  meet  again 
my  charming  hosts  and  other  kind  friends. 

On  the  lOtli  day  of  January  1909  I  boarded  the  Carthaginia. 
After  ten  days  of  snow,  rain  and  wind,  I  reached  England  and 
landed  on  its  shores  with  ten  shillings  in  my  pocket. 

I  was  very  tired,  physically  and  mentally.  The  wanderlust 
that  had  been  so  strong  in  me  was  all  but  dead  ;  the  fires  that 
had  once  raged  so  fiercely  had  nearly  burnt  themselves  out. 
The  desire  to  rest  was  strong  ;  but  it  was  not  yet  that  the  young 
adventurer  was  to  become  a  staid  citizen  of  the  land  that  gave 
him  birth.  Fate  decreed  that  he  was  still  to  wander — and  to 
learn  ! 


202 


PART   II 


CHAPTER    I 

BOUND   FOR   THE   TRANSVAAL 

OX  the  morning  of  the  10th  of  xVpril  1909  I  made  my 
second  departure  from  England. 
It  was  about  noon  when  the  Goth  slowly  swung  out 
of  Southampton  docks.  The  day  was  lovely — one  of  the  real 
English  spring  days  ;  about  the  first,  however,  I  had  experienced 
during  my  brief  stay.  After  friends  on  the  quay  were  out  of 
sight,  all  of  us  on  board  began  to  size  each  other  up.  There  were 
on  the  ship  the  usual  number  of  returning  South  Africans,  and 
many  like  myself  bound  for  the  Transvaal  and  Rhodesia,  driven 
from  our  own  country  by  the  stagnation  of  trade.  Of  these  there 
were  half-a-dozen  who  were  going  out  to  join  the  B.S.A.  Police  ; 
though  none  of  them,  I  would  wager,  are  still  in  the  corps. 
The  police  life  of  the  old  African  days  is  gone — never  to  return  ! 

We  had  a  delightful  trip  out  and  enjoyed  lovely  weather, 
which  was  very  welcome  after  the  bleak,  raw  days  most  of  us  had 
spent  in  England.  We  sighted  Table  IMountain  early  in  the 
morning  of  1st  3Iay,  and  berthed  in  the  afternoon  at  Capetown. 
I  made  a  three  days'  stay  here,  whilst  waiting  for  a  steamer  to 
take  me  to  East  London.  I  spent  my  time  in  making  pleasant 
trips  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  some  of  which  are  very 
beautiful. 

On  the  4th  I  left  by  the  Walmer  Castle  for  East  London, 
where  we  arrived  after  a  three-days'  passage,  having  stopped 
for  a  short  while  at  Port  Elizabeth,  in  xVlgoa  Bay,  to  discharge 
some  cargo.  At  this  port  the  steamer  la}^  out  some  distance  from 
the  shore,  as  we  were  unable  to  cross  the  bar  at  the  entrance  of 
the  harbour.  A  big  sea  was  running,  so  the  few  passengers  who 
landed  here  were  transferred  to  the  steam  launch  in  baskets — 

20S 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  usual  method  in  use  along  this  coast  when  the  weather  is  too 
bad  to  allow  of  the  ordinary  way  of  ernbarloition. 

East  London  lies  on  the  River  Buffalo  and  is  the  shipping 
port  of  Kingwilliamstown.  It  is  the  chief  outlet  for  the 
produce  of  the  Eastern  Province  of  the  Cape  Colony  and 
also  for  a  portion  of  the  Orange  River  Colony.  Wool,  ostrich 
feathers,  hides,  etc.,  arc  exported  in  yearly  increasing  quantities 
from  this  port. 

A  short  train  ride  took  me  to  King^villiamstown,  better 
known  to  the  inhabitants  of  Cape  Colony  as  "  King."  In  "  King  " 
I  made  a  week's  stay  with  my  brother.  '"  King  "  is  a  dorp  to  all 
those  who  do  not  live  there.  Those  who  do  elect  to  call  it  a 
town,  and  to  them  the  lights  of  East  London  on  a  Saturday 
night  say  the  last  word  of  splendour  and  magnificence. 
Johannesburg  is  regarded  by  them  as  an  unknown  world,  full 
of  traps  for  the  innocent.  The  smaller  the  dorp  in  the  colony 
the  more  particular  are  the  inhabitants.  Old  Mrs  B.  will  not 
speak  to  Mrs  11.,  because  Mr  H.  when  alive  was  an  insurance 
agent  ;  and  was  not  Mr  B.  when  alive  a  retired  gentleman  ? 
Old  ]\Irs  B.  conveniently  foigets  that  when  her  poor  departed 
husband  married  her  he  was  but  a  penniless  Transkei  trader 
and  that  it  was  only  by  years  of  patience  and  systematic 
swindling  of  the  natives  that  he  had  amassed  a  small  fortune. 
Such  is  Vanity  Fair  in  Cape  Colony  ! 

After  a  week's  stay  in  these  exclusive  circles  I  caught  the 
train  for  Johannesbuig.  I  passed  through  great  stretches  of 
grassy  plains  in  the  Orange  River  Colony,  crossed  the  Vaal 
Rivcj',  and  shortly  was  made  aware  of  the  proximity  of  the  great 
mining  industry  of  the  Rand  by  the  gleaming  headlights  of  the 
mine  sliafts.  When  nearing  Germiston  (a  few  miles  from  Johan- 
nesburg) the  roar  of  the  pounding  stamps  of  the  batteries 
sounded  like  the  booming  of  the  sea  on  a  rocky  shore. 

My  train  journey  from  the  south  was  uneventful  save  for  the 
loss  of  my  felt  hat.  which  I  had  had  for  so  many  months  that  it 
had  bK'()mc'  (piite  a  g()t)d  fi-iend  io  ww.  Its  disappearance 
certainly  did  credit  to  the  sleiglit  <oi  hand  skill  of  one  of  the 

206 


BOUND  FOR  THE  TRANSVAAL 

occupants  of  my  compartment,  all  of  whom  helped  me  most 
industriously  to  look  for  it. 

One  old  Dutchman  a  short  Avhilc  afterwards  poured  into  my 
youthful  ears  reams  of  advice  to  beware  of  the  guiles  and  of  the 
deceitful  ways  of  that  wicked  town  Johannesburg.  I  kept 
thinking  that  if  he  would  give  me  up  my  hat  it  would  be  more 
to  the  point. 

My  first  impression  of  the  mines  and  their  terrible-looking 
shafts,  through  which  the  damp  foetid  air  came  up  from  below, 
v.as  not  very  cheering.  My  thought  then  was  that  not  for  one 
hundred  pounds  a  day  could  I  ever  compel  myself  to  go  down 
those  shafts.  If  anyone  at  that  moment  had  told  me  that  it 
would  not  be  many  weeks  before  I  was  going  underground 
daily  in  that  cage,  the  descent  of  which  suspended  by  its  one 
quivering  wire  rope  I  ^^'as  then  watching,  I  should  have  told 
him  bluntly  that  he  was  a  liar. 

I  had  brought  out  with  me  a  few  letters  of  introduction. 
I  ought  to  have  known  better ;  of  course  they  proved  to  be  use- 
less. Johannesburg  with  its  type  of  successful  business  man 
was  at  first  sight  not  flattering.  I  formed  the  opinion,  which 
with  but  slight  modification  I  still  retain,  that  there  is  no  town 
where  a  man  can  starve  more  satisfactorily  than  in  Johannes- 
burg, or  where  the  iron  of  non-success  can  more  quickly  enter  his 
soul.  However,  my  talents  (?)  found  an  opening  at  last,  when 
I  was  about  to  part  with  my  last  sovereign.  One  of  the  mines 
just  outside  the  town — the  Robinson  Deep — had  a  tempoi-ary 
vacancy  for  an  assistant  storekeeper  at  twenty  pounds  a  month. 
This  billet  I  was  fortunate  in  securing.  The  sum  of  twenty  pounds 
a  month  may  sound  a  fortune  to  out-of-works  in  England  ;  but 
I  have  never  yet  met  the  man  in  South  Africa  who  has  for  two 
consecutive  months  saved  anything  out  of  that  salary. 

I  ol^tained  a  room,  quite  unfurnished,  in  the  single  men's 
quarters  after  waiting  two  or  three  weeks.  I  remedied  deficiencies 
by  introducing  two  empty  fuse-boxes  from  the  mine  store,  a 
bed  and  a  red  lamp-shade.  The  latter  gave  qu'te  a  distingue  air 
to  the  room,  its  rays  softening  some  of  the  too  appareiit  "'  chips" 

207 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

in  my  furniture.  My  room  became  a  show  room  !  When  I  pur- 
chased some  cretonne  to  cover  up  one  of  the  fuse-boxes  I  was 
solemnly  warned  by  a  pal  not  to  go  any  further,  as  one  of  the 
manager's  friends  would  "  come,  and  sec,  and  covet  "  ;  and  this 
last  would  mean  the  sack  for  me. 

After  holding  the  position  for  a  little  over  four  moiilli-.  iill 
its  rightful  owner  returned  from  l(a\c,  I  found  myself  facing 
the  alternatives  of  starving  or  of  going  underground.  Dui'ing 
my  term  in  the  store  I  had,  so  far  as  my  poor  efforts  could, 
left  no  stone  unturned  to  obtain  some  position  of  }>;  •  manency, 
however  small,  on  one  of  the  mines,  or  in  Johannesburg  ;  but 
so  tight  was,  and  is,  the  market  for  "  intellectual  labour  "  (as 
we  unskilled  labourers  without  capital  tei'm  what  others  ii'rever- 
ently  term  "  pen-pushing  ")  that  all  my  efforts  had  been  quite 
unsuccessful. 

I  chose  underground  mining  in  the  end.  having  a  foolish  notion 
that  the  familiar  expi'cssion  so  often  heard  amongst  young  men 
on  the  Rand  tliat  "  it  is  better  to  starA'c  than  to  go  under- 
ground ''  was  ill-founded.  Hence,  the  end  of  Decembei-  saw  me 
a  "  learner  "'  undergromid.  But  I  left  tlie  Robinson  Decjj  befoie 
]ny  tliree  months'  apprenticeship  was  up.  as  the  mine  was  too 
unhealthy.  The  damp  and  dust  tried  too  severely  my  not  over- 
strong  throat. 

A  period  of  two  or  three  weeks'  inactivity  inter\"ened  between 
leaving  the  Robinson  Deep  and  joining  the  Gcldenliuis  Estate — 
an  "  outcro])  "  mine,  consequently  a  more  healthy  oric.  This 
period  of  inacti\'ity  I  again  devoted  to  trying  to  secure  a  suj'face 
billet  in  some  mine  oflice  or  in  town.  Again  I  failed  ;  and  I 
remained  a  miner  on  the  Geldenhuis  Estate  till  the  end  of 
April  1910. 


208 


CELVPTER   II 

LIFE   IN   JOHANNESBURG 

JOH.\NNESBUIlG  is  the  New  York  of  South  Africa  in 
point  of  modernity  and  cosmopohtan  character  of  its 
inliabitants.  It  is,  further,  in  its  meteoric  rise  the  Dawson 
City  of  Africa.  Founded  on  the  discovery  of  gold,  it  has  grown 
from  a  few  tin  shanties  to  a  handsome  city  in  just  over  a  quarter 
of  a  century.  Where,  less  than  three  decades  ago,  was  a  small 
mining  camp  with  hard  beaten  tracks  over  which  long  teams 
of  oxen  laboriously  pulled  their  loads,  to-day  stands  a  well-built 
town  with  excellent  roads,  over  which  run  the  latest  models  in 
motor  cars. 

The  dwellers  in  Johannesburg  and  its  outskirts  along  the 
Reef  hail  from  every  corner  of  the  globe,  though  the  Far 
Eastern  representative  in  the  shape  of  the  much-missed  China- 
man is  no  longer  to  be  seen.  Every  nationality,  from  the  Polish 
Jew  in  all  grades  of  success  and  cleanliness  to  the  backveld 
Boe]',  goes  to  swell  the  human  hive  in  Johannesburg.  Every  type 
of  Britisher,  from  the  unpopular  Cornishman  to  the  "slim" 
Australian  ;  every  type  of  American,  from  the  rough  Colorado 
miner  to  the  up-to-date  Boston  engineer  ;  every  t}^e  of  coon, 
from  the  raw  Matabele  to  the  Lovcdale-Christianised  niggei-, 
is  to  be  met  with  in  the  streets  of  Johannesburg.  The  town  is 
popularly  known  as  Jew-burg,  because  the  Chosen  wield  such  a 
vast  power  in  the  mining  world  of  the  Rand.  I  would  add, 
however,  that  it  is  generally  acknowledged  that  a  Christian  is 
far  better  treated  by  a  Jewish  firm  than  he  is  in  a  Christian 
house  in  Johannesburg. 

Johannesburg  obtained  its  reputation  for  wickedness,  which 
to-day  it  struggles  to  retain,  during  the  war  and  the  few  rosy 
o  209 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

luouths  tluit  immediately  followed.  This  unenviable  reputation 
dies  hard.  I  may,  perhaps,  be  guilty  of  libelling  the  town  and  its 
citizens  when  I  say  that  I  have  always  considered  Johannesburg 
not  so  much  a  wicked  city  as  a  inock-moi'al  one.  Johannesburg 
is  more  tight-laced  in  its  laws  than  any  towii  of  which  I  know. 
Liquor  laws  are  more  rigorous  than  those  in  a  country  village  in 
J^^ngland.  The  town  is  well  equipped  with  places  of  amusement, 
clul)s,  churches  and  saloons.  The  saloons  are  the  most  popular 
and  are  consequently  numerous.  Of  clubs  the  Rand  and  the  New 
would  put  into  the  shade  many  similar  London  institutions. 
They  are,  ho-wever,  out  of  the  j-each  of  the  average  man  ^\ho  was 
not  in  Af  I'ica  diuing  the  diamond  days  of  Kiml)erley.  The  Union, 
which  is  one  of  the  town's  most  popular  institutions,  is  his  club  ; 
for  is  it  not  the  only  place  where  he  can  get  a  whisky  and  soda 
on  a  Sunday  ? 

There  was  a  boom  in  "  dime  "  shows,  or  cinematographs, 
in  th(;  years  of  1909  and  1910  and  it  did  no  little  liarin  to  the 
Empire — the  local  London  Pavilion.  Joliamiesburg  possesses 
two  theatres,  where  the  not  over-fastidious  audiences  ai'c 
chai-mcd  with  the  reproduction  of  second-rate  London  comedies. 

Of  hotels  there  are  plenty,  some  fh'st  rate  and  others  not 
so.  The  Carlton  is  considered  the  hotel  of  the  town.  Once  a 
white  elephant,  it  is  now  earning  dividends,  though  on  a  nmch 
leduccd  capital.  The  building  and  its  fiximes  would  certainly 
not  disgrace  a  Eiu'opean  city.  The  Carlton  monthly  dance 
is  quite  a  popular  feature.  One  is  the  guest  of  the  management 
for  the  evening  ami  h.'is  to  pay  no  moie  than  the  price  of 
su]>])cr  and  drinks.  The  dances  are  always  gay  and  po})ular 
and  imich  heartl)urning  is  felt  by  the  uninvited.  I  have  seen 
thei'c  some  marvellous  frocks  and  ci'eations,  and  some  vcvy 
nice  girls. 

Li  .Toliannesbui'g  one  cnn  get  ;\]]  soits  of  dances — from  a 
five-shilling  "  ho])  "  in  J^raamfontein  to  a  select  ])ii\'aie  dance 
in  i'ai'kiown.  Of  Ihe  I'oi'mei"  I  am  cf)m])cl:ent  to  s])cak  ;  though 
not  oi  tile  kilter.  Jn  Ihe  Transs'aal  I  hnve  always  been  one  of  the 
submerged    hundred.    In    the    five-shilling    "  ho])s  "   the   only 

2IO 


LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG 

restriction  was  that  dancers  must  not  use  their  hobnailed 
"  King-Miner  "  boots. 

Food  is  very  cheap  in  Johannesburg.  You  can  get  a  good  meal 
tliere  for  a  shilling,  with  a  glass  of  beer  thrown  in.  You  can  also 
get  exactly  the  same — perhaps  a  little  worse — foi"  five  shillings. 
"Blackings"  will  serve  you  the  former,  whilst  a  few  swagger 
restaurants  offer  the  latter.  The  Trocadero  is  a  very  popular 
resort,  particularly  on  Saturday  and  Sunday  nights  when  the 
town  is  full.  Music,  prettily  shaded  tables  and  quite  a  good  menu 
persuade  you,  if  only  for  a  few  minutes,  that  you  are  a  gentle- 
man and  not  a  miner,  who,  of  course,  could  not  possibly  be  one  ! 
The  Aiiglo-Austrian  Cafe  is  another  very  popular  resort  whei'c 
one  can  hear  excellent  music,  and  is,  indeed,  the  only  place  of 
the  kind  that  I  know  of  in  Africa. 

Saturday  night  in  town  is  the  night  of  the  week.  Pritchard 
Street  is  the  Saturday  night  meeting-place  for  men  fiom  all 
parts  of  the  Reef.  From  Boksburg  to  Randfontein  workers  on 
the  mines  flock  here  to  meet  their  friends.  It  is  with  an  effort 
one  makes  a  way  through  the  crowds.  There  ai'c  only  a  few 
Avomen  but  men  of  all  ages  and  descriptions.  Snatches  of 
convei'satiou  arc  overheard  from  little  groups  of  men  talking 
together.  "  ^yhat  !   have  you  left  the  Simmer  ?  "    "  Yes  !   that 

son  of  a of  a  mine  captain  fired  me  "  is  the  reply  you  have 

just  time  to  catch  before  you  are  in  the  midst  of  a  little  group 
of  yongs  [i.e.  young  Colonials)  who  are  heatedly  discussing  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  the  football  match  that  afternoon  on  the 
Vrandcrcr's  ground.  Having  heard  a  few  of  the  opinions  of  these 
young  football  experts  (and  young  South  Africa  docs  know  how 
to  play  Rugby)  you  elbow  your  way  through  a  group  of  typical 
miners.  One  iiears  :  "I  'knocked  out '  seventy  last  month,  but 

I  shall  be lucky  if  I  make  thirty  this."     '■  Cut  you  ?  " 

"  OC  course,  they  did,  the  ."  Words  quite  unintelligible 

to  a  stranger  in  this  little  world  of  mines  and  miners  ;  but  not 
to  the  man  who  is  part  and  parcel  of  it. 

You  go  on  elbowing  yoiu'  Wci}\  catching  stray  remarks  of  those 

211 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

who  are  "  fired,"  are  "  shiftbossing,"  are  "  tramming,"  and  are 
"fed  up,"  the  latter  type  being  by  far  the  most  in  evidence. 
During  this  stroll  down  Pritchard  Street  you  have  glanced  up 
once  or  twice  at  the  tea-rooms  to  see  if  anyone  you  know  is 
there.  Strains  of  the  fiddle  reach  your  ears  above  the  noise 
and  chatter,  and  as  it  sounds  attractive  in  the  distance  you 
decide  to  have  a  drink.  You  select  the  "  Balcony  "  tea-room. 
You  ascend  the  stairs  and  walk  into  a  tastefully  decorated  room, 
full  of  little  tables,  round  which  gossiping  groups  of  men  are 
seated.  Only  one  or  two  of  the  fair  sex  are  present.  On  both 
sides,  overlooking  the  lively  streets,  runs  a  balcony,  also  full  of 
crowded  tables.  You  stroll  leisurely  round,  nodding  here  and 
there  to  those  you  know,  till  you  fmd  a  seat  disengaged.  This  is 
rather  a  hard  job  at  times.  After  a  few  minutes — more  or  less — 
a  haughty  young  lady  arrives  at  your  table  and  demands  your 
order  ;  sometimes  she  asks  what  you  would  like.  You  arc, 
however,  at  that  moment  fascinated  by  a  brilliant  pair  of — no  ! 
not  eyes — but  socks,  of  which  you  have  just  caught  sight.  You 
trace  them  to  their  owner  ;  and,  should  one  be  a  stranger  in  the 
town,  he  may  rest  assured  that  he  has  set  eyes  on  one  of  tlie 
gilded  youths  of  Johannesburg.  His  salary  is  easy  to  appraise. 
The  stranger  will  think  that  it  must  be  at  least  that  of  a  mine 
secretary,  possibly  that  of  a  inine  manager.  Xo  !  stranger,  you 
have  not  yet  the  key  !  Learn  that — in  Johannesburg — the  lower 
the  salary  the  more  gorgeous  the  socks  !  Those  socks  over  there 
are  "worth,"  perhaps,  fifteen  pounds  a  month  in  a  lawyer's 
office. 

On  withdrawing  your  fascinated  gaze,  you  are  horrified  to 
find  the  haughty  young  lady  still  standing  beside  you,  with 
a  martyr-like  air  and  a  sort  of  don't-lct-me-hurry-you-sir 
expression  on  her  face.  You  apologise  and  order  a  lactobacilinc. 
Quite  a  non-intoxicating  drink,  don't  think  it  is  a  new  cocktail  ! 
Lactobacilinc  is  only  sour  milk,  an  imitation — ^and  not  always 
a  very  successful  one — of  African  calabash  milk.  Your  drink 
and  bill  ai'rive  simultaneously.  .Toliannesburg's  motto  is  :  "  God 
we  trust  ;  all  others  cash."  Ignoring  the  bill,  you  take  a  swig  of 

212 


LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG 

tlio  concoction,  after  having  given  it  sugar  and  nutmeg.  The 
band  has  now  started  playing  again.  You  laiow  it  has,  for  from 
your  seat  you  can  just  catch  sight  of  the  fair  'cellist's  head. 
The  queer  noise  that  reaches  you  occasionally  makes  you 
doubly  certain.  In  the  Balcony  no  one  listens  to  the  music  ; 
but  at  times  it  helps  to  drown  the  conversation  of  a  noisy  party 
near,  when  you  are  trying  to  impress  your  fair  companion 
with  the  truth  that  but  for  hard  luck  you  ought  to  be  filling  the 
shoes  of  a  manager,  who  is,  of  course,  a  fool  !  The  clear  atmos- 
phere of  Johannesburg  must  contain  a  germ  of  dissatisfaction, 
for  iiearly  everyone  who  lives  there  is  at  times  fed  up.  If  a  man 
gets  sacked,  it  is  because  (so  he  says)  he  was  fed  up  with  the  job. 
If  a  lawyer  loses  his  case,  it  is  because  he,  or  the  judge,  was  fed 
up  at  the  time.  If  a  miner,  stoping  in  an  "  outcrop,"  blasts 
down  half  the  manager's  garden  and  the  henroost,  it  is  because 
he  was  fed  up  with  the  manager  or  the  hens — more  likely  the 
former  I  If  the  secretary  of  the  golf  club  loses  a  match,  it 
is  because  he  was  fed  up.  I  was  nearly  always  fed  up  myself 
when  in  Johannesburg,  and  considered  that  I  had  every  cause  to 
be  so.  But  the  strange  thing  about  it  is  that  all  the  others  are 
equally  sure  of  their  hard  case. 

Having  sat  in  the  Balcony  for  half-an-hour  or  so — it  is  now 
nearly  nine  o'clock — you  stroll  out  again  into  the  street.  The 
crowd  is  thicker.  You  direct  your  steps  to  the  Anglo-Austrian, 
where  you  will  be  bound  to  meet  someone  you  know.  There's 
also  the  chance  of  meeting  the  man  who  owes  you  a  sovereign. 
You  push  your  way  through  the  crowd  and  reach  the  cafe. 
You  go  downstairs,  hastily  glancing  at  the  mirrors  that  line  the 
staircase  to  see  if  you  are  looking  as  much  of  a  wreck  as  usual, 
or  whether  the  new  socks  suit  your  complexion.  You  go  in  by  one 
of  the  swing  doors  and  are  possibly  detained  because  a  polite 
youth  is  doing  acrobatic  feats  in  attempting  to  hold  open  one  of 
the  swing  doors,  while  the  two  majestic  ladies  he  is  escorting  are 
endeavouring  to  pass  underneath  his  arm  without  spoiling  their 
gorgeous  hats.  When  this  scene  is  over,  you  nearly  get  your 
face  smashed  in  by  the  youth  who,  thinking  he  has  done  all 

213 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

politeness  demands  of  liim,  slams  the  door  behind  him.  You 
have  just  time  to  avoid  it,  and  silently,  though  fluently,  bless 
the  youth,  who  is  now  guiding  his  two  flushed  charges  in  their 
search  for  an  empty  table. 

You  stroll  in  and  find  a  seat  without  much  difficulty,  as  j^our 
needs  are  small.  Should  you  be  a  stranger  you  will  gaze  round 
and  think  that  you  have  possibly  entered  a  Turkish  bath 
establishment  instead  of  a  cafe.  It  is  not  so  nmchthe  atmosphere, 
thougli  that  is  thick  enough  with  smoke  from  numerous  pipes 
and  Natal  cigars,  as  the  white-tiled  walls  which  so  forcibly 
remind  you  of  a  bath-house.  Though  ugly,  the  Anglo-Austrian 
is  one  of  the  most  popular  I'csorts  of  Johannesburg,  and  is,  as  I 
have  already  said,  the  only  place  in  tlie  town  that  provides  an 
opportunity  to  music  lovers  to  hear  some  I'cally  good  nuisic. 
The  orchestra  only  consists  of  two  violins,  a  'cello,  a  flute  and 
a  gi'and  piano  ;  but  notwithstandiiig  the  limitations,  one  can  hear 
some  of  the  finest  music  ever  writteii.  Music  is  ])rovidcd  every 
afternoon  and  evening,  but  on  Tuesdays  and  Fridays  solos  are 
added  to  the  usual  programme. 

You  have  by  now  found  a  seat  and  sit  down  ;  not  comfort- 
ably, for  the  wire  chairs  of  the  Anglo-Austrian  are  iiotorious  for 
their  discomfort.  I  think  they  must  have  been  designed  for 
the  ex})ress  purpose  of  keeping  you  fjom  outstayiiig  your 
welcome,  or,  in  other  words,  your  six])enny  drink.  A  lady,  whose 
coiffure  is  a  special  feature,  a])proaches  and  sup])lies  \ou  at 
you!-  request  with  a  cafS  melange.  You  pick  up  the  pi-ogi-amme 
and  find  the  next  item  is  ''  Poet  and  Peasant."  A  sym])athetic 
audience  applauds  when  the  piece  is  over.  An  aNvful  din  and 
clattei-  of  spoons  on  saucers  further  denotes  the  audience's 
a])])i'e('iation.  The  musicians  smile  and  look  pleased,  but  do  not 
]'es])()ii(l  to  the  cries  of  "  Encore  ''  as  it  is  Saturday  night.  AVhilst 
wailing  for  the  next  item,  you  gaze  round  to  see  whom  you  know. 
The  place  is  very  crowded,  as  it  nearly  always  is  on  Saturcbiy 
and  Sunday  nights.  The  sti'cani  of  people  coming  in  and  out  is 
an  attractive  sight  to  a  student  of  human  nature.  You  es])y  a 
family   man   wlio   is   taking  out    his   wife   and   kiddies   fcjr   an 

214 


LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG 

evening's  enjoyment.  You  nod  to  him,  for  you  laiow  him  as  a 
shift-boss  from  your  mine.  Presently  you  notice  a  young  fellow, 
whom  you  know  very  well,  coming  in.  You  catch  his  eye.  He 
comes  over  to  your  table  and  sits  down  opposite,  having  just 
forestalled  another  man  who  was  going  to  take  the  empty  chair. 
We  exchange  news,  or  "  swap  lies,"  as  is  vulgarly  said,  till 
the  next  item  is  played  by  the  orchesti-a. 

Presently  two  Italians^ — Dagos  they  call  them  on  the  Rand — 
come  and  sit  opposite  us.  It  is  easy  to  surmise  their  occupation 
fi'om  their  worn  and  white  faces.  They  are  developers  in  the 
mines.  A  dcvclopei'\s  life  is  worth  about  ten  years — c'est  tout. 
It  is  now  half-past  nine,  so  we  stroll  out  and  discuss  on  the  kerb- 
stone our  next  movements.  We  notice  absently  the  flaring  lights 
of  a  moving-train  cinematograph  show  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  and  are  jostled  by  passers-by,  till  at  last  we  decide  to 
go  to  the  Caj'lton  and  have  a  drink,  as  lactobaciline  and  ca^e 
melanges  are  not  stimulating  enough  for  a  Saturday  night.  We 
reach  the  Carlton  and  edge  our  way  to  the  bar,  which  is  now 
ci'owdcd  with  theatre-goers,  "  half-time  "  being  on.  We  order 
whisky-soui's- — the  latest  thing  in  cocktails — which,  like  some  of 
its  brothers,  has  a  nice  red  cherry.  We  exchange  a  few  words 
with  men  we  know  and  in  the  crush  you  lose  your  shortwhile 
companion.  You  sti'oll  out  shortly  afterwards  alone  and  wander 
back  to  Pritchard  Street,  which  you  find  fast  emptying,  most  of 
the  respectable  citizens  having  now  gone  home.  You  make  your 
way  to  ^Market  Square  and  fmd  it  is  neai'ly  eleven  o'clock  ;  so 
\'ou  decide  also  to  go  home.  You  catch  your  car,  which  leaves 
every  fifteen  minutes,  to  Turfontein — and  one  more  Saturday 
on  the  Rand  is  passed  ! 

A  Sundav  in  Johannesburg  rs  a  thing  to  be  avoided  !  It  is 
the  slowest,  and,  incidentally,  the  driest  thing  in  Africa.  Should, 
however,  circumstances  elect  that  you  live  in  Johannesburg, 
you  will  probably  sleep  well  into  the  Sunday  morning,  unless 
you  are  feeling  energetic  enougli  for  a  round  of  golf  or  a  game 
ol   tcmiis.   You  will   be   dressed  and   out   by   eleven   o"ek)ck 

215 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

when  you  will  wander  to  Market  Square,  there  to  get  a  "  shoe 
shine"  and  to  wonder  what  the  deuce  you  will  do  with  your- 
self. If  you  are  a  member  of  the  Union  Club  you  will  decide 
to  go  and  get  a  drink.  If  you  are  not  you  will  try  to  find  a  pal 
who  is.  If  you  can't  do  that,  you  will,  as  a  last  resource,  decide 
to  go  to  the  public  library  and  there  skim  a  few  of  the  home 
papers  till  you  feel  hungry  enough  to  have  some  lunch.  This 
idea  is  as  suddenly  dismissed  as  it  came  ;  for  you  remember  that 
the  library  is  only  open  when  the  busy  man  can't  get  there,  and 
that  on  Sunday — when  quite  a  few  might  avail  themselves  of 
it — it  is  shut  ! 

Your  boots  are  shining,  your  tickey  paid,  and  the  question, 
"  Where  shall  I  go  ?  "  is  still  unanswered.  You  eventually  decide 
to  go  to  the  Wanderer's  ground  and  see  if  there  is  any  tennis 
worth  watching,  after  which  you  will  go  and  bask  in  the  sun 
(which  always  shines  in  the  Transvaal)  in  Joubert  Paik.  This 
you  do  ;  and  the  green  grass  and  luxurious  flowers  are  a  welcome 
contrast  to  your  usual  surroundings  during  the  week—the 
mine  dumps  !  Here  you  decide  that  you  will  go  out  to  the  Zoo 
in  Eckstein  Park  in  the  afternoon  and  see  some  more  green 
things.  You  return  to  Pritchard  Street  and  go  to  "Blackings," 
where  you  get  quite  a  good  meal  and  a  glass  of  beer  for  a  shilling. 
After  finishing  your  alfresco  meal,  you  catch  a  car  marked 
Parktown.  It  is  a  perfect  day  and  so  you  take  a  top  seat.  You 
pass  down  Eloff  Street  and,  however  much  you  think  you  have 
a  grievance  against  the  town,  you  cannot  help  remaiking  on  the 
numl^er  of  well-built  houses.  Turning  round  by  Park  Station — 
the  station  of  Johannesburg — you  pass  through  ]]raamfontein, 
one  of  the  growing  suburbs  of  the  town.  If  you  aie  of  an 
observant  turn  of  mind  you  will  remark  on  what  a  vast  amount 
of  galvanised  iron  must  have  been  used  to  build  up  the  town, 
not  to  mention  the  tliousands  of  tons  used  on  tlie  mines  them- 
selves. I  cannot  recall  a  house  in  Joluumesbuig,  whether  it 
was  the  mansion  of  a  mine  magjiate  or  tlic  dwelling  of  a  miner, 
that  ])0sse>sed  anything  but  a  galvanised  roof.  Most  of  the 
houses  you  })ass  in  Jiraamfontein  are  small  live-joom  dwellings, 

2lG 


\  1  I  lii-,  I 


r    W\,   ,  :]     {\'\\  \'-    .:<  ['-    \  ;-i  I 


LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG 

though  of  a  rental  value  of  seven  to  ten  pounds  a  month.  With 
this  in  mind,  it  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  living  wage 
for  a  married  man  residing  in  Johannesburg — not  on  a  mine — 
is  at  the  minimum  of  tliirty  pounds  a  month.  When  a  man  has 
to  pay  about  one  hundred  pounds  a  year  for  a  small  house,  for 
which  he  would  only  pay  thirty  pounds  a  year  in  any  suburb 
of  London,  it  is  not  hard  to  realise  the  expenses  of  life  in 
Johannesburg.  A  "  tickey "  (threepence)  is  practically  the 
smallest  coin  in  use,  its  purchasing  power,  roughly  speaking, 
being  that  of  a  penny  in  England  and  a  nickel  (five  cents) 
in  the  States. 

With  these  thoughts  in  your  head  you  immediately  dismiss 
the  idea  of  a  plunge  into  matrimony  which  the  sight  of  two 
happy-looking  lovers  had  suggested  to  you,  and  turn  your  gaze 
upon  Ohlsson's  Brewery,  which  the  tram  at  that  moment  is 
passing.  It  seems  a  far  more  sensible  object  on  which  to  con- 
centrate wandering  thoughts.  It  is  not  long  before  the  tram 
descends  into  the  valley  round  which  Parktown  lies.  Here  one 
ol:>tains  a  lovely  view.  Houses  of  every  style  of  architecture, 
mostly  of  the  old  Dutch  type — very  picturesque — lie  here  and 
there  in  graceful  confusion,  their  iron  roofs  painted  in  dark 
colours,  some  red,  some  green  and  some  black.  In  the  distance 
can  be  seen  the  great  clumps  of  Australian  blue  gums,  which 
thrive  so  well  on  the  Transvaal  soil,  forming  a  very  picturesque 
background. 

You  alight  at  the  Zoo  and  wander  contentedly  about,  listening 
to  the  band  and  to  the  roaring  of  the  lions  in  their  cages.  Lying 
lazily  on  the  gromid  amidst  the  shady  trees  in  some  quiet 
spot  you  pass  some  restful  hours,  till  the  setting  sun  and 
an  empty  stomach  remind  you  it  is  getting  late.  You  catch  a 
return  car,  and,  by  the  time  you  are  once  again  in  the  heart  of 
the  town,  it  is  nearh'  seven  o'clock  and  quite  dark.  You  decide 
to  go  to  the  "  Troc."  and  there  have  dinner.  As  you  are  alone 
you  are  bomid  to  find  there  some  kindred  spirit  equally  lonely. 
If  you  haven't  been  there  for  a  month  or  two  you  will  make  a 
sporting  bet  to  yourself  as  to  whether  the  waiters  have  been 

217 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

changed  again  or  not  ;  whether  the  Indian  waiters  are  still  there, 
or  some  "  democratic,"  consequently  insolent,  white  waiters  in 
their  place.  Entering,  you  find  the  place  full. 

A  look  at  the  waiters  tells  you  that  you  owe  yourself  a  half- 
crown.  The  waitei's  are  unchanged  ;  and  it  is  over  three  weeks 
since  you  were  there  last !  As  you  expected,  you  know  many  of 
the  people.  A  hrst  glance  produces  two  lawyers,  with  whom 
you  have^ — ^fortunately — only  a  nodding  acquaintance.  There 
are,  on  dit,  more  lawyers  than  criminals  in  Johannesburg. 
Uncharitable  folks  do  add  that  it  is  hard  to  discriminate  between 
them.  You  further  notice  a  shift-boss  dining  his  fiancee  at  one 
table.  You  ignore  him,  however,  with  a  contemptuous  look,  as 
he  sacked  you  a  few  weeks  ago  ;  of  course,  quite  unjustly  !  No 
man  since  the  Reef  was  discovered  has  ever  been  sacked  for 
any  fault  of  his  own.  You  further  espy  your  whilom  companion 
of  last  night  toying  with  a  monocle  and  some  claret.  As  you  also 
notice  that  he  has  with  him  two  pretty  girls,  whom  he  is  enter- 
taining, you  deduce  that  his  state  of  funds  will  be  at  a  very  low 
ebb  by  the  loth  of  the  month.  You  envy  him  nevertheless,  and 
nod. 

You  are  in  flannels  ;  many  are  also.  But  the  opposite  scat  to 
you  is  suddenly  taken  by  a  splendidly  dressed  youth  who  hurls 
at  you  a  withering  glance.  He  has  quite  a  pretty  gij'l  with  him, 
so  you  do  not  wither  up  but  just  take  a  glimpse  at  his  socks  and 
her  left  hand.  A  quick  mental  calculation  tells  you — an  engaged 
couple,  youth  worth  seventeen  ])0unds  ten  shillings  a  month  ; 
probable  date  of  marriage — nevei'  ! 

Pj'csently  in  strolls  a  man  in  flannels  with  golf  clubs  slung 
over  his  shoulder.  He  has  won  his  match,  it  is  easy  to  see,  as  lie 
is  l()(jki]ig  so  cheei'ful.  You  beckon  to  him  as  you  know  him  rather 
well  (he  is  your  brother),  and  he  joins  you  at  diimcr.  The  nuisic 
has  ])(en  playing  at  intervals.  The  rays  of  the  pretty  shaded 
liglits  falling  on  the  cheerful  Sunday  crowd,  eou])led  with  a 
})ottle  of  Hermitage  (the  brothci'  lias  won  his  matcli)  leeall  to 
mind  scenes  of  London,  memoiies  of  the  Savoy. 

After  dinner  you  stroll  over  to  the  Anglo-Austi'ian  and  find 

218 


LIFE  IN  JOHANNESBURG 

it  packed  like  a  herring  barrel,  the  atmosphere  here  being  worse 
than  a  London  fog.  The  martial  strains  of  the  Overture  to 
"  William  Tell  "  greet  your  ears  as  you  enter.  They  nearly  always 
play  this  masterpiece  of  Rossini  on  Sunday  evenings.  The  fog 
is  the  smoke  of  the  finest  smoking  tobacco  in  the  world— Boer 
tobacco.  After  an  hour's  stay  in  the  cafe,  chatting  with  sundry, 
you  stroll  down  towards  Park  Station. 

A  more  energetic  Sunday  on  the  Rand  can  be  spent  in  a 
morning's  round  of  golf  on  one  of  the  many  sporting  courses 
in  and  round  Johannesburg.  An  afternoon  of  tennis  on  the  fast 
red-earth  courts,  followed  by  a  lazy  evening  in  the  Mine  Recrea- 
tion Hall,  j)laying  a  game  of  billiards — this  is,  perhaps,  a  more 
typical  Sunday  in  the  Randite's  life. 

Church  does  not  enter  his  programme,  though  it  is  on  record 
that  two  brothers  once  met  each  other,  accidentally,  one  Sunday 
evening  in  a  Johannesburg  church  !  A  dweller  on  the  mines, 
however,  feels  lie  needs  a  little  more  stimulant  than  a  discourse 
on  the  dispensation  of  the  Mosaic  Law. 


219 


CHAPTER    III 

MINES    AND   MINING   ON   THE   RAND 

THE  gold-mining industryof  the  Rand  is  as  well  organised 
an  industry  as  can  be  found  in  any  part  of  the  world. 
To-day  the  Rand  is  the  largest  gold-producing  centre, 
for  it  has  had  at  its  disposal  for  many  years  the  greatest  engineer- 
ing intellects  the  world  could  supply.  The  result  is  evident  in 
the  modern  methods  and  up-to-date  machinery  now  in  use  for 
the  extraction  of  the  gold  from  the  reef  at  the  minimum  of  cost. 
The  reduction  of  working-costs  is  the  question  to  which  all  the 
energy  and  skill  of  the  mining  engineers  have  been  directed. 
Year  by  year  a  noticeable  reduction  has  been  effected,  till  the 
low  figure  of  eleven  shillings  per  ton,  and  in  some  cases  a  figure 
even  lower,  has  been  reached.^  To  obtain  this  result,  however, 
the  ruthless  cutting  down  of  expenditure  has  been  necessary, 
chiefly  in  the  reduction  of  staffs  and  of  wages  ;  and  the  use  of 
the  latest  labour-saving  appliances  and  up-to-date  machinery 
has  brought  about  tlie  last  word  in  economical  world ng.  It  might 
be  truly  remarked  that  at  length  the  shareholder's  interests  are 
being  regarded,  that  the  investor  has  at  last  come  into  his  own. 
The  days  when  the  mines  of  the  Rand  were  run  for  the  benefit 
of  a  select  few  are  gone — never  to  return  !  The  days  when  hand- 
some salaries  were  paid  to  miderworkcd  staffs,  when  miners 
earned  their  cheques  of  one  hmidrcd  and  fifty  pounds  a  month, 
and  then  grumbled,  are  also  gone  ! 

One  of  the  great  handicaps  to  the  satisfactory  and  cheap 
working  of  the  mines  is  the  shoitagc  of  native  labour — the  un- 
skilled labour  of  the  mines.  The  repatriation  of  the  Chinese  hit 

^  The  average  cost  per  ton  on  the  Rand  is,  however,  higher  than 
eleven  shiUings  ;    roughly,  eighteen  shillings  per  ton. 

220 


MINES  AND  MINING  ON  THE  RAND 

the  Rand  industry  severely.  To  those  unacquainted  with  South 
Africa  this  fact  would  appear  a  very  remarkable  one  at  first 
sight,  in  view  of  the  millions  of  blacks  in  Africa.  But  when 
one  looks  a  little  closer  into  the  matter  this  factor  of  short- 
age of  native  labour  is  not  so  surprising  as  would  first  seem. 
Several  causes  combine  to  create  this  state  of  affairs.  The 
chief  cause  is  the  native's  natural  fear  of  going  down  into  the 
"  deep  hole  "  in  the  ground.  Tales  of  death,  by  the  dreaded  mine 
consumption  and  by  accident,  reach  the  native's  ears  in  whatever 
far-away  district  he  may  live,  and  are  magnified  in  transit. 
Another  important  factor  is  the  native's  natural  laziness.  A 
Kafir  does  not  like  regular  and  systematic  work.  If  he  possess 
a  sufHciency  of  wives,  enough  to  till  his  lands  and  provide  him 
with  his  few  wants,  he  is  content.  Lastly,  it  must  be  recalled 
that  the  mining  industry,  though  the  chief  industry  and  at 
present  the  mainstay  of  the  Union,  is  not  the  only  industry 
that  needs  the  labour  of  the  country.  Already  the  agricultural 
section  of  the  community  is  crying  out  that  its  labour  is  being 
absorbed  by  the  Rand. 

The  one  great  drawback  on  the  Rand  is  the  uncertainty  of 
cjuployment  and  the  instability  of  a  white  man's  position. 
Men  in  subordinate  billets  are  more  or  less  sure  of  holding  them, 
so  long  as  they  do  their  work  properly  ;  but  those  in  higher  and 
more  responsible  positions  have  daily  the  fear  of  dismissal 
hanging  over  their  heads.  A  change  of  management  is  generally 
the  forerunner  of  numerous  dismissals.  With  the  ever-present 
fear  of  being  any  moment  out  of  a  job  it  is  only  natural  that 
]ncn  hesitate  to  marry  or  to  bring  their  families  out  from  home. 
This  insecurity  of  tenure  is  the  bugbear  of  the  mines.  Till  it  is 
removed  it  is  useless  for  politicians  to  consider  or  talk  about 
making  the  Rand  anything  but  a  place  of  temporary  settle- 
ment. 

To  my  personal  knowledge  one  mine  manager  foolishly 
boasted  that  it  would  not  be  long  before  all  the  old  hands  were 
gone — sacked  at  his  instigation — when  he  took  over  the  contiol 
of  the  mine  in  questior..  Tic  started  steadily  filling  the  high 

221 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

and  responsible  positions  with  his  friends,  many  of  whom  were 
grossly  inefficient.  These  friends  eventually  lost  for  him  his  own 
position — he  was  hoist  with  his  own  petard ;  the  reduced  output 
of  the  mine  brought  about  his  dismissal.  Men,  after  holding  for 
some  years  a  responsible  position  on  a  mine — the  very  fact 
of  the  length  of  their  stay  indicating  satisfactory  work- — ^will 
be  dismissed  at  a  moment's  notice  at  the  whim  of  some 
manager.  Length  of  service  "  cuts  no  ice  "  on  the  Rand 
mines. 

Another  unsatisfactory  method  on  the  mines  of  the  Rand 
to-day  is  the  underhand  system  of  "  measuring  up  "  or  survey- 
ing the  fathomage  of  ground  broken  by  a  miner  in  the  stope 
where  he  is  working.  In  numerous  instances  the  correct  fathom- 
age  is  not  allowed,  a  loAver  estimate  being  substituted.  If  the 
miner  comes  out  in  debt,  however — i.e.  if  he  does  not  break 
suflicient  ground  to  pay  for  the  stores  he  has  used  and  the  native 
labour  he  has  employed — the  mine  honestly  allows  the  correct 
estimate  to  stand.  An  experienced  miner,  though  not  as  a  rule 
in  possession  of  even  the  first  rudiments  of  surveying,  has  a 
pretty  shrewd  and  accurate  idea  of  what  he  has  "  knocked  out  " 
by  the  end  of  the  month.  Such  a  fraudulent  system  should  be 
rigorously  stamped  out. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  a  miner's  life  on  the  Rand  is 
not  "  all  beer  and  skittles,"  there  is  no  shortage  in  the  supply  of 
white,  or  skilled,  labour  for  the  mines,  though  wages  to-day 
are  much  lower  than  before  the  war.  Large  cheques  to-day  are 
the  exception  rather  than  the  rule. 

To-day  a  miner  working  on  "  day's  pay  "  {i.e.  on  a  daih"  wage 
and  not  by  contract)  earns  roughly  16s.  8d.  to  20s.  a  shift, 
nigjit  or  day,  for  "  hand-stoping  "  (that  is,  in  chai'gc  of  a  gang 
of  natives  drilling  by  hand).  For  "  machine  stoping  "  he  will 
earn  rouglily  20s.  to  25s.  a  shift,  whilst  for  "lashing"  or 
"  tramming  "  {i.e.  superintending  a  gang  of  natives  shovelling 
the  ))roken  ore  and  its  conveyance  to  the  ore-bins  ready  for 
hoisting)  12s.  6d.  to  15s.  a  shift.  For  contracting  it  is  very  hard 
to  state  anytliing  ])ut  an  approximate  average  month's  earnings, 

222 


MINES  AND  MINING  ON  THE  RAND 

as  so  much  depends  on  conditions,  such  as  the  skill  of  the  miner, 
the  efficiency  of  his  "  boys  "  and  the  state  of  the  stope  in  Avhicli 
]ie  is  working,  etc.  Roughly  speaking,  a  miner  will  earn  on 
contract  anything  from  £20  to  £35  a  month  "  hand-stoping  "  ; 
£25  to  £50  a  month  "  machine-stoping  "  and  £70  to  £100  a 
month  "  machine  developing."  These  figures  are  only  approxi- 
mately correct ;  for  one  miner  will  come  out  in  debt  where 
another  will  make  £25. ^ 

Developei's  are  the  best  paid  miners,  as  their  life  is  short.  This 
work  of  developing  is  the  dustiest,  consequently  the  deadliest. 
Miner's  phthisis  soon  claims  them  as  victims.  Italians  are  chiefly 
erigaged  in  this  class  of  mining.  !Mine  consumption  is  the  curse 
of  the  Hand  mines,  the  deadly  dust  of  the  rock  claiming  in- 
numerable victims.  Much  attention  has  been,  and  is  being,  con- 
centrated to-day  towards  lessening  the  deadly  effect  of  the 
mine  dust,  but  not  with  much  result.  The  use  of  respirators  is 
encouraged,  though  they  are  but  little  adopted,  as  it  is  quite 
hot  and  stuffy  enough  working  underground  without  bi'eathing 
through  a  sponge.  Strict  injunctions  are  given,  and  are  meant  to 
be  observed,  to  use  water  freely  to  keep  down  the  dust  whilst  drill- 
ing with  machines  ;  but  so  careless  and  almost  childish  are  many 
miners  that  they  will  frequently  disregard  this  very  necessary 
precaution.  The  habits,  too,  of  the  average  Rand  miner  do  not 
tend  to  help  him  to  resist  this  disease.  His  almost  rabid  dislike 
of  water,  fresh  Jtir  and  a  hygienic  mode  of  life  makes  him  very 
susceptible  to  consumption.  Greater  encouragement  is  being- 
given  to-day  to  the  miner  to  indulge  in  open-air  reci'cation  ; 
thougli  the  average  miner  does  not  take  very  kindly  to  golf, 
or  tennis  or  such  sports.  Whippet-racing  is  his  chief  hobby, 
wliilst  horse-racing  is  also  popular.  Both  are  fairly  sure  means 
of  helping  him  to  get  rid  of  his  money.  Pneumonia  is  also 
prevalent  on  the  mines,  chiefly  from  chills  coirtracted  and 
neglected  underground. 

Numerous  accidents  occur  on  the  Rand,  though  the  number 
is  really  very  small  in  view  of  the  magnitude  of  the  industry 
^  'J'hcse  words  were  written  before  the  strikes  of  /pi 3. 
223 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

to-day.  1   Carelessness    is    most    often    responsible    for    these 
accidents. 

However  careful  a  miner  may  be  himself  he  still  takes  his  life 
in  his  hands  when  he  enters  the  cage  to  go  down  to  his  day's 
work  ;  for,  apart  from  the  gradual  undermining  of  his  health, 
he  runs  the  daily  risk  of  getting  killed  or  disabled  by  a  fall  of 
rock  or  "hanging,"  by  being  "gassed"  by  d^Tiamite  fumes, 
or  by  being  "  blasted  "  through  someone  else's  carelessness. 
Even  when  in  the  cage,  descending  at  the  rate  of  nearly  a  mile 
a  minute,  his  life  depends  solely  on  the  staunchness  of  the  one 
steel  hawser,  which  has  broken  more  than  once.  Still,  much  is 
being  done,  though  perhaps  not  from  very  altruistic  motives, 
towards  the  improvement  of  the  lot  of  the  miner  on  the  Rand  ; 
and  certainly  it  can  be  safely  said  that  in  no  time  has  the  Rand 
mining  industry  ever  been  on  such  a  sound  footing  as  it  is  to-day. 

After  the  gold  ore  is  mined  below  it  is  hauled  to  the  surface 
to  be  crushed.  The  ore  is  then  sorted,  the  auriferous  reef  being 
separated  from  the  waste  rock,  the  one  being  easily  distinguishable 
from  the  other.  The  reef  is  then  conveyed  to  the  battery,  or  mill. 

By  means  of  a  conveyer  belt  the  ore  is  raised  to  the  large  ore- 
bins  ;  from  here  the  flow  of  broken  rock  into  the  stamp-boxes 
is  regulated  and  under  the  tremendous  stamps,  which  work 
night  and  day,  is  crushed  into  small  fragments.  The  crushed 
rock,  mixed  with  water,  is  now  almost  like  mud.  It  next  passes, 
through  narrow-meshed  screens,  over  mercury-coated  plates, 
and  undergoes  what  is  known  as  the  "  amalgam  process." 
Here  the  first  extraction  of  gold  takes  place.  Roughly  speaking, 
seventy  per  cent,  to  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  gold  is  retained 
on  these  plates.  The  muddy  stream  of  crushed  ore  then  passes 
through  the  "tube-mills,"  which  consist  of  big  revolving 
cylinders,  in  appearance  like  boilers,  filled  with  small  pebbles. 
Here  the  ore  is  completely  crushed.  It  then  passes  over  the 

^  194,328  natives  were  employed  on  the  Rand  during  April  1911, 
and  the  accident  rate  in  191 1  was  only  4- 1  per  1000.  In  view  of  the  large 
proportioR  of  semi-savage  labour  employed,  the  rate  is  small. 

224 


A     1    \Ki  ,1-:     M  1\I'.     I'K'  'li-,K  I  S" 


\  I   \KK\  .     -ill  i\\  1  \" 


\  I  !:i  I    n  \  n-. 


MINES  AND  MINING  ON  THE  RAND 

"shaking-tables,"  another  set  of  mercury  plates,  vibrating  to 
and  fro  to  retard  the  flow  of  the  auriferous  stream  over  them. 
A  further  percentage  of  the  gold  is  retained  on  these  plates. 
The  ore  now  undergoes  the  cyanide  treatment. 

The  solution  is  pumped  up,  or  raised  by  the  "  tailing's-wheel," 
into  launders  (wooden  sluices),  which  convey  it  to  the  cyanide 
works.  Here  the  "  sands  "  are  separated  from  the  "  slimes  " 
(the  latter  are  the  very  finely  divided  material).  The  former 
sink,  Wii'lst  the  latter,  suspended  in  the  liquid,  run  over.  Each 
is  treated  separately. 

The  "  sands  "  are  pumped  into  great  tanks,  where  they  are 
allowed  to  settle  ;  they  are  now  in  a  suitable  condition  for 
''  leaching."  A  solution  (0-35  per  cent.  Potassium  Cyanide)  is 
then  pumped  on  and  percolates  through  the  sands,  absorbing 
most  of  the  gold.  Further  weak  solutions  (0-15  per  cent.  K. 
Cy.)  are  pumped  on,  absorbing  still  more.  The  "slimes"  are 
similarly  treated  ;  first  with  one  strong  and  then  with  various 
weak  solutions  which  extract  all  the  gold  possible.  The  am"o- 
cyanide  solutions  arc  then  conveyed  to  the  "  extractor-house." 

The  sands,  when  completely  treated,  are  left  to  dry,  and 
are  then  conveyed  to  the  huge  white  dumps  that  daily  grow 
larger.  The  slimes,  when  free  of  gold,  go  to  swell  the  lai'ge 
dams  which  slowly  harden  in  the  air.  To-day  a  very  small  per- 
centage of  gold  escapes,  perhaps  3  per  cent,  only,  in  striking 
contrast  to  former  years  when  the  "  tailing-dumps  "  had  as 
nmcli  as  10  per  cent,  of  gold  still  unextracted. 

In  the  extractor-house  the  cyanide  solution,  with  tlic  gold  in 
suspension,  passes  through  boxes  filled  with  freshly  cut  zinc 
shavings  (which  contain  a  small  percentage  of  lead,  pure  zinc 
being  less  efficient),  on  which  the  gold  is  deposited  in  the  form 
of  a  black  slime.  This  slime  contains  all  the  gold  which  the 
cyanide  absorbed  ;  the  latter  is  then  free  again  for  use.^ 

^  The  cyanide  solution  is  weakened  somewhat  by  decomposition  by 
tlie  reactions  in  the  zinc  boxcSj  but  the  presence  of  large  quantities  of 
the  double  cyanide  of  zinc  and  potassium  is  not  prejudicial  to  its  solvent 
action  when  used  again,  after  being  brought  to  standard  strength. 

P  225 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

These  boxes  then  undergo  a  process,  which  is  termed  in  mining 
parlance,  the  "  clean-up."  The  zinc-gold  slimes  are  collected  and 
are  charged  into  vats  for  treatment  with  sulphuric  acid  (bi- 
sulphate  of  sodium  is  sometimes  used  also)  to  effect  an  elimina- 
tion of  the  zinc  and  other  base  metals.  Violent  chemical  action 
ensues,  the  fumes  given  off  being  highly  poisonous.  After  this 
treatment  witJi  acid,  which  dissolves  the  zinc,  the  slimes  are 
settled,  washed  and  separated,  and  are  then  ready  to  undergo 
the  process  of  smelting. 

The  gold-amalgam  from  the  two  sets  of  plates  (i.e.  those  in 
the  battery  and  those  on  the  shaking  tables)  is  retorted  in  a 
furnace.  The  bulk  of  the  mercury  is  driven  off  (but  recovered 
by  condensation),  leaving  the  gold  behind  practically  free  of  the 
mercury,  though  a  little  remains  until  smelting  takes  place. 

The  smelting  process  employed  on  the  Rand  is  similar  to  that 
in  use  in  other  comitries.  The  auriferous  slimes  are  baked,  turn- 
ing into  a  clinker  mass.  This  is  broken  up,  placed  into  a  crucible 
and  mixed  with  a  flux  (chiefly  of  sand,  carbonate  of  soda  and 
borax).  The  crucible  is  then  placed  in  a  furnace  under  intense 
heat ;  after  a  certain  period,  the  gold  collects  in  the  form  of 
a  button  covered  with  a  thick  slag. 

The  gold  recovered  from  the  amalgam  is  similarly  treated, 
the  intense  heat  driving  off  what  little  mercury  is  still  retained. 
The  slag  retains  only  a  very  small  percentage  of  gold ;  this  is 
mostly  recovered  by  periodical  fusions  of  accumulated  quantities 
of  slag  with  borax  and  lead.  Twelve  gold  buttons  go  to  form  one 
ingot  ba]-,  being  annealed  under  intense  heat  with  more  flux, 
the  molten  metal  being  then  poured  into  a  mould.  The  gold 
ingot  is  approximately  99'9  per  cent,  pure  gold,  a  very  small 
percentage  of  baser  metals  still  remaining. 

]\Iuch  of  iJic  I'apid  progress  which  lias  been  made  in  lowering 
the  cost  of  the  extraction  of  the  gold  from  tlie  ore  is  due  to  the 
intj'oduction  of  the  cyanide  process — in  1890 — and  its  subse- 
quent itDprovcment. 


22b 


HI'.  ^rKKiir  \  i  iiNi;>  i<i   \   Rwd   Mink 


..^^   ^         ;,  Jil»ffi-ljt    <* 


\'  \i.\v   III    (  ^  \\  ; !  'I-.    W"' 


CHAPTER    IV 

LIFE   UNDERGROUND 

DULL  breaks  the  morning  light  on  the  Rand.  ^  The  engine- 
driver,  with  his  eyes  on  the  clock,  stands  by  his  lever 
in  the  brightly  lit  engine-room  waiting  for  six  o'clock 
to  strike.  Once  the  hour  is  reached,  he  grasps  the  hempen  cord 
and  gives  the  hooter  one  long  sustained  pull,  with  the  result  so 
well  known  to  all  residents  along  the  Reef.  To  the  town  man  or 
the  office  man,  this  awakening  blast  may  mean  nothing  beyond 
a  notion  of  the  time  of  day ;  but  to  the  underground  worker, 
whether  he  be  a  miner,  trammer  or  anything  else,  it  means 
everything.  It  means  the  beginning  of  a  new  day,  of  one  more 
shift  to  be  put  in. 

Loath  to  leave  my  couch,  which  by  the  wildest  stretch  of 
imiigination  could  not  be  designated  as  downy,  I  snatch  just 
another  twenty  winks  and  then  bestir  myself.  Perched  on  the 
edge  of  my  rickety  bed,  I  don  a  minimum  of  clothing  and  make 
tracks  for  the  boarding-house  to  enjoy,  or  to  bolt,  breakfast, 
according  to  the  hour.  Two  warning  blasts  at  the  half -horn*  tell 
me  to  "  get  a  move  on."  Gathering  up  a  bottle  of  cocoa  and 
bundle  of  sandwiches — my  midday  meal  below — I  hasten  off 
to  the  headgear.  Here  the  change-house  is  to  be  found.  Ranged 
along  the  room  on  all  sides  are  lockers,  and  I  unlock  the  door  of 
mine  in  order  to  exchange  the  fc'w  clothes  I  have  on  for  others 
more  suited  for  the  labours  of  the  day.  ]My  previous  day's  "work 
underground  begrimed  my  mining  clothes,  but,  thanks  to  the 
rows  of  hot-air  pipes  in  the  building,  they  arc  now  in  a  more  or 

'  For  the  framework  of  this  sketch  I  am  much  assisted  by  an  ably- 
written  article  which  appeared  in  The  TvuMsvaal  Leader  m  July  1909. 

227 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

less  dry  state.  Hastily  doffing  my  surface  garments,  I  don  my 
"  diggers  "  and  in  a  few  minutes  am  ready  to  go  below,  garbed 
for  my  toil  in  an  attire  which  almost  completes  metamorphosis. 
An  old  cap,  worn  and  covered  with  mud,  is  perched  on  the  back 
of  my  head,  whilst  my  jacket  is  such  that  no  dealer  would 
even  consider  it  for  a  moment  in  relation  to  a  purchase.  A  good 
and  thick,  if  grimy,  undervest  peeps  out  from  the  neck  of  my 
stout  woollen  shirt,  while  my  trousers,  showing  signs  of  better 
days,  are  tied  below  the  knees  with  a  piece  of  string  (a  strap 
costs  money),  lifting  them  up  well  over  my  "  King-Miners," 
which  weigh  five  or  six  pounds  each.  On  my  way  to  the  head- 
gear I  recognise  a  few  here  and  there  with  a  nod  or  cheery  word, 
according  to  the  state  of  my  liver.  Spotting  my  boss-boy,  I  go 
^vith  him  to  the  store  to  get  what  I  may  want  in  the  way  of  fuse, 
caps,  candles,  etc.  All  except  the  caps  I  hand  to  the  native,  who 
plunges  them  into  a  big  sack  and  hurries  off  below.  With  a  roll 
of  old  newspapers  in  my  hands,  afterwards  to  be  used  for 
"  tamping-paper,"  I  proceed  to  interview  the  shift-boss  to  see 
if  he  has  any  special  information  from  my  partner,  who  is  this 
week  on  night-shift. 

Long  ere  this  the  huge  wheels  on  the  top  of  the  headgear  have 
begun  to  work,  and  the  cage,  loaded  with  its  living  freight, 
has  been  busily  ascending  and  descending  with  a  regularity  of 
motion  that  speaks  for  quiet  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  banks- 
man on  duty.  In  some  cases  the  cages  arc  double-deckers  ;  then 
the  natives  occupy  the  top  section  and  the  whites  the  lower. 

I  clamber  into  the  cage.  Two  bells  are  rung  and  down  we  go, 
slowly  at  first,  but  gradually  increasing  the  speed  till  the 
maximum  allowed  by  the  mining  regulations  is  reached.  The 
cage  slows  up  and  stops  at  the  level  on  which  I  am  working. 
I  scramble  out  of  my  temporary  prison,  liglit  my  lamp  and  ^\•ith 
juy  boss-boy  proceed  to  my  working-place. 

On  reaching  my  '"  stopc  "'  I  go  to  the  box.  which  contains  fubC, 
a  few  spare  hammers,  etc.,  and  deposit  my  coat  and  lunch 
inside.  I  then  lock  it.  Lunch  is  more  impoi'tant  to  me  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  contents  put  together  I  1  then  proceed  to  nispect 

228 


LIFE  UNDERGROUND 

the  stope.  My  gang  ol'  liainiiier-boys  lollow  me  (il  they  aie  not 
there  first).  When  I  am  satisfied  that  the  "  hanging  "  is  safe,  the 
natives  begin  to  clear  away  from  the  "face"  the  sphntered 
reef  and  debris,  result  of  the  previous  blast.  When  the  face  is 
clean,  I  examine  it  to  see  if  there  are  any  misfii'cs  {i.e.  any  charges 
of  dynamite  unexploded).  I  also  direct  that  the  sockets  of  old 
lioles  should  be  plugged,  to  avoid  as  far  as  possible  any  chance 
of  their  still  containing  dynamite  and  being  drilled  into,  with 
fatal  results.  When  I  am  satisfied  that  all  is  in  order,  I  give  my 
hammer-boys  the  directions  of  their  holes— their  task  for  the 
day  ;  and  here  it  is  that  the  skill  of  a  good  miner  shows  itself  ! 
I  have  got  to  break  as  much  ground  as  I  can  with  the  least 
expenditnc  of  powder.  To  achieve  this  my  aim  is  to  get  in  as 
good  "  })onehes  "  as  I  can  ;  or,  in  other  words,  to  get,  say,  two 
or  three  feet  hollows  in  the  face  at  regular  intervals.  In  the 
direction  in  which  the  holes  are  drilled  lies  the  accomplishment 
of  this  end.  I  must  not  put  them  at  such  an  angle  as  will  give 
the  powder  too  heavy  a  load  to  lift,  or  too  light  a  one  ;  in  botli 
cases  this  means  a  waste  of  dynamite.  In  theformer  the  dynamite, 
having  too  big  a  task,  fails  to  break  the  rock,  whilst  in  the  latter 
its  breaking  power  is  not  utilised  to  its  full  extent.  Experience 
teaches  the  miner  to  find  just  the  happy  medium.  Flaws  in  the 
rock,  slips,  faults,  etc.,  must  be  taken  fully  into  account.  The 
observant  miner,  the  one  who  uses  his  brains  as  well  as  his  hands, 
is  the  one  who  earns  the  biggest  cheque  when  on  contract,  as  he 
takes  full  advantage  of  the  assistance  given  him  by  Xature  in 
the  shape  of  these  peculiarities  in  the  strata  of  the  reef. 

Some  of  my  gang  are  safe  to  adhere  to  the  direction  given, 
which  is  usuallv  indicated  bv  marking  the  hanging  with 
candle  smoke.  Others,  however,  i-equire  constant  su2)ervision,  as 
tlie  slightest  deviation  from  the  dij-ection  given  spells  frustration 
of  the  miner's  best  intentions.  When  all  my  "  boys  "  arc  started, 
I  return  to  my  box,  having  collected  their  tickets.  I  tlien  start 
to  fill  in  what  jjarticulars  I  can  at  the  moment.  The  task  of 
filling  up  the  tickets  of  the  gang  is  to  some  miners  the  hardest 
task  of  the  day,  for  there  are  many  on  the  Rand  more  used  to 

229 


A    WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  hammer  and  drill  than  to  the  pencil.  Whilst  I  am  thus 
occupied,  enjoying  a  pipe  at  the  same  time,  my  boss-boy  is 
cutting  up  the  old  newspapers  into  square  pieces,  rolling  them 
round  a  "  tamping-stick  "  and  then  sealing  them  with  candle 
grease,  the  papers  when  completed  being  tube-shaped.  They 
are  then  filled  with  finely  sifted  earth,  or  sand. 

By  this  time  it  is  eleven  o'clock.  Shortly  afterwards  I  espy  the 
light  of  the  shift-boss,  on  his  round  of  inspection,  shining  in  the 
drive.  I  look  busy  and  await  his  arrival.  He  is  a  Cornishman — 
one  of  the  old  school ;  but  wiiat  he  doesn't  know  of  mining  isn't 
worth  knowing. 

"  Well  !  Arthur,  how  is  everything  ?  I  see  the  hanging  of 
your  main  reef  is  looking  kind  of  shaky." 

"  Ay  !  you're  right,  Ben,"  I  reply,  "  I've  put  a  couple  of  boys 
on  making  a  waste-pack  there,  though  it's  almost  too  dangerous 
to  work  in." 

"  That's  right,  Arthur.  Keep  a  good  eye  on  your  boys  ;  if 
the  hanging  looks  bad  any  moment,  get  'em  out  of  it  !  Arthur, 
you're  mining  that  leader-stope  a  little  too  high  ;  keep  it 
low.  They  are  kicking  up  on  top  that  there's  too  much  waste 
going  up  !  " 

"  I  am  doing  my  best,  Ben,  to  keep  it  low  ;  but  you  can't 
bring  it  away  with  one  hole  as  the  foot-wall  is  as  bad  as  the 
hanging." 

"  Well  !   Well  !    Keep  an  eye  on  that  main-reef-stope." 

"  Right-o,  Ben  !  " 

On  the  departure  of  the  sliift-boss  I  take  another  look  at 
my  boys  working  to  see  if  they  are  drilling  correctly.  With 
another  glance  at  the  hanging-wall  of  the  stopes  I  return  to 
my  box.  It  is  now  noon  and  I  begin  to  think  of  my  lunch.  A 
timberman  working  near  by  joins  me.  We  exchange  the  latest 
news  and  gossip  on  the  latest  dismissal  or  on  the  stupidity  of 
mine  managers  in  general.  This  ceases  about  one  o'clock,  or  at 
the  sign  of  the  approach  of  anyone  in  authority  ;  the  light  in 
the  drive  gives  us  ample  warning.  I  have  now  to  go  to  the  station 
to  get  the  dynamite  I  ordered.  With  my  boss-boy  I  bring  it 

230 


A    sll  AKV     ••  IIAM.IM 


k;  I  Ki  \i .    nil-:  '  iRi-:    i  < 


LIFE  UNDERGROUND 

back  to  my  box,  preceding  with  the  hght  the  native  carrying  it. 
Then  I  start  to  make  up  the  cJiarges  for  the  day.  First  the  fuse 
is  cut  into  suitable  lengths,  each  generally  of  six  feet  (if  you  are 
on  contract  and  so  paying  for  your  own  stores,  four-foot  lengths 
will  meet  the  case).  The  fuse  is  then  inserted  into  the  caps, 
which  are  firmly  tightened  round  it  with  nippers.  If  your  cap 
nippers  have  strayed,  you  use  your  teeth — a  rather  risky  pro- 
ceeding. The  dynamite  is  produced  and  each  stick  is  opened, 
the  cap  with  fuse  attached  being  inserted  into  each  premier 
cartridge.  All  is  now  ready  for  "  charging  up,"  except  that  the 
holes  are  not  all  finished.  Presently  one  boy  then  another 
comes  up  and  asks  for  his  ticket,  stating  that  he  has  drilled 
his  thirty-six  inches.  In  some  cases  you  may  go  and  satisfy 
yourself  that  the  native  has  done  his  work  by  measuring  up  his 
hole.  In  most  instances,  however,  you  hand  the  native  his  ticket ; 
he  knows  quite  well  you  will  soon  fmd  out  when  you  start 
charging  up  whether  or  not  the  hole  has  been  fully  drilled. 
When  the  native  gets  his  ticket,  off  he  marches  with  drills  on 
his  shoulder  bound  for  the  compound  and  "  skofi."  Between  half - 
past  two  and  three  o'clock  I  get  up  from  my  reclining  position, 
wiiere  I  have  been  dreaming  of  life  in  every  other  country  except 
in  Africa,  and  with  my  boss-boy,  who  carries  the  "tampers," 
and  my  piccanin,  who  carries  the  dynamite,  I  proceed  to  my 
first  working-place  to  commence  charging  up.  Starting  from 
the  bottom  of  the  stope,  each  hole  in  succession  receives  its  dose 
of  dynamite  and  tamping,  the  whole  being  driven  well  home. 
Charging  up  a  narrow  stope  Avith  some  twenty  or  thirty  holes 
is  good  exercise,  and  one  needs  a  moment's  rest  on  completion. 

The  boys  who  have  not  fully  completed  their  tasks  are 
only  allowed  the  inches  they  have  drilled  ;  and  those  who  have 
not  drilled  at  least  eighteen  inches  get  a  "  loafer  "  ticket  instead 
of  the  ordinary  one,  which  is  worth  to  them  tvro  shillings  or 
thereabouts. 

The  hours  for  blasting  vary.  Four  o'clock  is  about  the  average 
hour  on  the  Rand  ;  and  ere  that  time  I  have  booted  the  last  coon 
out  of  the  sto23e,  as  well  as  any  others  in  the  vicinity,  This  done,  I 

231 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

wait  for  the  welcome  cry  of  "  Chesa  !  "  from  the  level  below. 
This  is  shouted  in  eveiy  mine  before  lighting  up  and  is  the  signal 
for  those  on  the  upper  levels  to  follow  suit,  as  well  as  being  a 
warning  cj-y.  At  the  sound  of  "  Chesa  !  "  I  start  lighting  up, 
assisted  by  my  boss-boy.  A  minute  suffices  for  the  operation. 
One  doesn't  want  to  be  too  sleepy  on  this  job.  All  that  remains 
to  be  done  now  is  to  eleaj-  out  and  get  up  on  top  again.  With 
the  mine  quivering  witli  the  concussion  of  the  shots  going  off, 
above,  below,  behind,  and  in  fiont,  I  wend  my  way  along  the 
drive  to  the  station,  wliere  already  there  is  a  crowd  of  miners 
assembled  waiting  for  the  skip. 

After  a  short  wait  you  get  a  place  in  the  cage  and  up  you  go. 
Soon  the  gloom  of  the  mine  gives  place  to  a  grey  light  in  the 
shaft.  God's  good  air  fills  the  nostrils  once  again,  and  sky  and 
clouds  greet  the  eyes  once  more. 

On  reaching  the  surface  I  give  in  my  envelope,  in  which  are 
enclosed  the  tickets  of  my  natives,  and  am  once  again  at  liberty 
to  don  apparel  more  suitable  for  the  surface.  After  ten  minutes 
I  emerge  from  the  change-house  clean — and  once  again  in  my 
right  mind  ! 

Before  one  becomes  a  full-fledged  miner  one  has  to  gain  a 
blasting  certificate  by  serving  an  apprenticeship  as  a  learner  for 
three  months.  It  is  ])Ossible  to  get  a  miner's  licence  in  a  shorter 
period  than  that  regulated  by  the  Chamber  of  Mines.  Years 
back  one  could  obtain  a  licence  without  even  going  imdergromid, 
but  now  things  are  quite  diffeient  and  a  miner  in  possession  of 
a  blasting  ticket  to-day  at  least  knows  how  to  handle  dynamite, 
even  if  he  is  not  much  class  at  mining.  During  learning  days  one 
is  attached  to  vai'ious  miners  doing-  diffeient  work,  on  a  wage 
of  live  sliillings  a  day.  The  montlis  on  this  wage  are  very  lean 
ones  for  the  learner.  It  is  a  case  of  the  simple  hfe  with  a 
vengeance. 

I  was  first  attached  to  a  boss -t ran miei-^ — one  superintending 
the  cleaning  up  of  the  stopes  and  the  tramming  of  the  ore  to 
the  shaft ;  afterwards  to  a  hand-stoper — a  miner  with  hammei'- 

232 


\  ii1';ri  ,ki  ii"  \  h   si"  K\"i.N'i  \( 


LIFE  UNDERGROUND 

boys  ;  then  to  a  machine-stoper — a  miner  stoping  with  machine 
drills. 

I  remained  a  learner  till  the  opportunity  arose — in  the  shape 
of  a  miner  getting  sacked — of  getting  a  stope  of  my  own.  I  was 
then  handed  a  Provisional  Licence,  and  one  month  afterwards 
my  permanent  certificate,  for  which  I  paid  five  shillings.  I  was 
now  a  qualified  miner. 

During  learning  days  I  accompanied  the  miner  in  his  various 
rounds,  using  my  eyes  to  watch  and  my  mouth  to  ask  the  why 
and  the  wherefore,  when  the  miner  set  his  boys  drilling  or  rigged 
up  his  machines.  Soon  I  tried  my  own  hand,  learning  by  my 
mistakes.  It  was  not  long  before  I  was  charging  up,  under 
the  watchful  e3'es  of  the  miner.  I  don't  know  whether  I  was 
specially  fortunate  in  the  miners  with  whom  I  came  into  contact, 
or  w^hether  my  democratic  life  in  so  many  parts  of  the  world 
enabled  me  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  them,  but  all  the  miners 
with  whom  I  learnt  showed  me  ever}i:hing  I  wanted  to  see  and 
answered  anything  I  wanted  to  know.  I  was  always  on  splendid 
terms  with  them.  I  found  the  Rand  miner,  whether  he  was  a 
Dago,  Cornishman  or  German,  to  be  a  real  good  fellow  at  heart, 
and  in  many  cases  far  more  of  a  Nature's  gentleman  than  some 
of  the  lavender-socked  gentry  of  the  town. 

I  can  recall  very  vividly  the  extremely  gingerly  way  I  first 
handled  sticks  of  dpiamite,  the  great  respect  I  paid  to  de- 
tonators, and  the  unholy  funk  I  ^vas  in  when  I  first  lit  up  a 
stope.  The  method  of  lighting  up  charges,  as  directed  by  the 
Chamber  of  Klines  in  the  Transvaal,  is  by  means  of  a  "  cut  " 
fuse.  I  would,  however,  dearly  love  to  watch  one  of  the  com- 
mittee lighting  up  fifty  or  sixty  fuses — quite  an  ordinary  number 
— -by  this  means.  His  wife  would  be  a  happy  widow  long  before 
he  was  half-way  through  with  the  job.  The  only  method — illegal, 
I  believe — c-mployed  on  the  Rand  is  with  the  "  chesa-stick." 
This  latter  is  a  thin  wooden  stick^ — of,  say,  half-an-inch  in 
diameter- — with  thin  strips  of  dynamite  wrapped  round  and  mud 
smeared  over.  The  stick,  when  lighted,  spits  out  a  llame,  which 
is,   however,  checked  by  the  damp  mud,   but  for  which  the 

233 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

gelatine  would  flare  furiously.  The  "  chesa-stick "  further 
acts  as  an  excellent  torch  when  the  concussion  of  the  mine 
during  blasting  extinguishes  your  mining  lamp  or  candle,  as  is 
inevitably  the  case. 

Handling  dynamite  and  detonators,  and  lighting  up  a  stope 
with  thirty  or  forty  fuses  and  perhaps  numerous  "  popholes  " 
(small  charges  in  large  rocks),  is  nervous  work  to  the  tyro,  but  a 
mere  trifle  after  a  few  weeks'  experience.  One  then  gets  perfectly 
accustomed  to  such  work ;  too  accustomed,  in  fact,  for  familiarity 
breeds  contempt,  and  contempt  is  a  dangerous  sentiment  to 
hold  in  regard  to  dynamite.  I  don't  think  I  am  exaggerating 
when  I  say  that  a  good  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  accidents,  fatal 
or  otherwise,  that  occur  in  the  Rand  mines  nre  occasioned 
solely  by  carelessness — by  disregard  of  the  ordinary  necessary 
precautions  when  handling  high  explosives.  You  will  catch  your- 
self complacently  smoking — and  Boer  tobacco  too  ^ — sitting 
on  your  dynamite  box  whilst  putting  detonators  on  your  fuses, 
as  though  you  were  in  your  mine  room.  You  will  find  yourself 
almost  unconsciously  using  your  teeth  on  the  deadly,  but 
so  harmless-looking,  detonators  when  your  cap-nippers  have 
strayed.  You  will  find  yourself  lighting  up  half-a-dozen  charges 
and  then  taking  out  your  knife  to  cut  a  small  piece  off  one  fuse, 
quite  oblivious — well,  I  will  not  say  "  quite  oblivious,"  "  aware  " 
is  the  better  word — of  the  fact  that  six  little  jets  of  flame  are 
steadily  burning  their  way  towards  huge  charges  of  dynamite. 
You  will  gauge  to  a  nicety — to  a  couple  of  seconds — the  sixty 
or  seventy  seconds  your  fuse  will  burn  ere  it  reaches  the  charge. 
You  will  do  this  a  thousand  times  ;  but  there  is  always  the  one 
time  possible  that  you  will  cut  it  too  fine.  And  then  one  will 
hear  in  the  mine  boarding-house  :  "  Did  you  know  poor  old  Tom 
got  blasted  on  the  twenty-seventh  level  last  night — over  in 
number  two — smashed  to  hell."  A  miner  will  bite  a  detonator 
with  his  teeth  a  thousand  times  ;  the  thousand  and  first  time  it 
will  blow  half  liis  jaw  away.  He  will  kick  open  with  liis  hob-nail 

^  Most  South  African  smokers  have  little  holes  in  their  clothes  through 
burning  pieces  ol  tobacco  tailing  lr(_)ni  their  pipes. 


LIFE  UNDERGROUND 

boots — not  with  the  wooden  mallet  supplied — a  box  of  dynamite 
a  thousand  times  ;  the  thousand  and  first  time  will  see  him  and 
the  natives  around  him  being  picked  off  the  face  of  the  drive 
and  put  into  buckets. 

Some  miners  in  tlieir  utter  folly  will  even  tamp  down  dyna- 
mite with  a  steel  jumper,  if  their  "  charging-stick  "  happens  to 
be  too  long  to  get  into  the  hole — literally  plucking  the  beard  of 
Providence  !  A  miner  may  do  it  once,  might  do  it  twice,  but  the 
third  time  will  surely  see  him  and  his  boss-boy  getting  a  quick 
despatch  to  Kingdom  Come  !  It  is  more  than  a  sporting  chance 
that  he  will  do  the  trick  the  first  time,  and  successfully,  which 
means  a  loss  to  the  mine  of  a  jumper — and,  incidentally,  a 
miner  ! 

My  boss-boy  was  once  nearly  blasted  through  his  confounded 
vanity.  Having  been  lately  promoted  to  the  dignity  of  a  boss- 
boy,  he  had  purchased  out  of  his  earnings  a  pair  of  miner's 
boots  (most  of  the  natives  go  barefooted  in  the  mines).  As  I 
had  many  working -places  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  do  all  the 
lighting  up,  so  the  boss-boy  did  a  part.  I  might  remark  in 
parenthesis  that  if  it  had  been  possible  I  should  not  have  done 
it  all  ;  for  not  one  miner  out  of  ten  lights  up  himself,  as  a  good 
boy  is  as  expert  at  this  job  as  any  miner,  if  not  better.  Well, 
this  boy,  owing  to  his  new  boots  being  about  four  sizes  too  big 
for  him,  in  clambering  up  the  stope  went  up  one  step  and  slipped 
back  two.  He  had  barely  reached  the  drive  in  this  Irish  method 
of  ascent  before  the  first  shot  went  off.  He  finished  the  last  dozen 
or  so  yards  cheered  and  encouraged  by  some  of  the  profanest 
language  that  my  memory  could  supply  at  such  short  notice. 
That  nigger,  while  he  was  with  me,  never  wore  boots  again  ! 

Perhaps  my  third  day  underground  was  the  worst  of  any  I 
have  ever  spent  there,  though  it  was  by  no  means  a  t}^ical  day 
in  a  miner's  life.  I  was  at  the  time  a  learner  with  a  miner  who  was 
hand-stoping  ;  and  an  excellent  miner  too.  We  had  charged 
up  and  were  waiting  for  the  signal  to  light  up  our  stope.  Some 
misunderstanding  apparently  arose,  for  the  higher  and  lower 
levels,  we  noticed,  were  already  lit  up.  Soon  half  the  mine  was 

235 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

ringing  and  shaking  with  the  concussion  of  the  blasting.  We 
then  commenced  liurriedly  to  hght  up  our  own  stope  without 
further  delay.  By  the  time  we  had  finished  and  were  speeding 
along  the  drive  to  the  station  tlie  whole  mine  was  thick  with 
smoke  denser  than  any  London  fog.  ^Yhat  with  tliis  choking 
smoke,  the  l)anging  of  the  cliarges  exploding,  the  crashing  of 
rocks,  and  the  I'attling  of  flying  pieces  in  the  box-holes,  I  felt, 
as  we  passed  along  the  drive,  that  underground  mining  was 
not  exactly  the  happiest  occupation  in  life.  E^ven  the  miner 
himself  cursed  freely  and  swore  he  would  quit  the  mine  directly 
he  got  above  ;  but,  like  a  sailor  in  bad  weather,  his  bark  was 
worse  than  his  bite.  We  reached  the  shaft  with  our  hair  and  eye- 
lashes as  white  as  snow — from  the  thick  smoke  through  which 
we  had  passed  ! 

It  is  very  easy  to  lose  one's  way  in  a  large  mine  and  for 
the  first  week  or  two  I  was  continually  losing  myself.  But  I 
always  found  some  good  Samaritan  to  put  me  in  my  right 
direction  again. 

Mining  in  a  narrow  "  leader-stope  "  is  splendid  exercise,  as 
one  has  to  crawl  over  the  boulders  and  rocks  which  litter  the 
foot-wall  of  the  stopes,  some  of  which  are  not  four  feet  high.  I 
generally  managed  to  crack  my  head  or  scrape  my  spine 
before  the  face  of  my  working-place  was  reached.  Doing  this 
a  dozen  times  or  more  in  the  course  of  a  shift  is  as  good  as  a 
course  of  Turkish  baths.  It  is,  however,  so  often  the  case  that 
when  in  this  state  one  traverses  a  drive  wliich  is  comparatively 
cool,  thereby  contracting  a  severe  chill,  as  a  singlet  is  generally 
the  only  covering  on  the  up])er  })art  of  the  body. 


236 


CHAPTER    V 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    OUR   TREK    TO    OVAMBOLAND 

I  HAVE  already  written  about  the  steady  demand  of  the 
Transvaal  mines  for  native  labour.  An  expedition  with 
which  I  was  connected  had  as  its  main  object  the  re- 
cruiting of  Ovambo  natives  in  Angola,  or  Portuguese  West 
Africa.  An  experienced  recruiter — Morgan,  I  will  call  him — 
had  trekked  from  Mossamedes,  a  seaport  in  Angola,  through 
Portuguese  Ovamboland  to  Lake  Xgami  ;  and  from  the  Lake 
through  Bechuanaland  to  Palapye  on  the  Rhodesian  railway 
He  reported  very  favourably  on  the  opportunities  of  recruit- 
ing for  the  mines  hundreds  of  Ovambo  natives,  as  well 
as  many  refugee  Damaras  who  had  sought  protection  in 
Portuguese  territory  from  their  mailed  fist  "  protectors  " — the 
Germans.  He  said  that,  as  the  Portuguese  were  contemplating  an 
armed  occupation  of  their  portion  of  Ovamboland,  the  natives 
were  anxious  to  settle  in  British  territory ;  for  the  bloody  colonis- 
ing methods  of  the  Germans  on  their  southern  border  did  not 
inspire  in  them  any  hope  of  finding  refuge  in  that  quarter.  It  was 
a  very  striking  fact  that  this  recruiter- — ^an  Englishman^ — had 
travelled  in  and  through  both  Portuguese  and  German  Ovam- 
boland, alone  and  miarmed  save  for  a  hunting  rifle  or  two, 
^\■herc  no  German  or  Portuguese  would  dare  to  go  without 
soldiers  to  protect  him.  So  trustful  were  these  Ovambos  of  the 
name  of  Erigland — a  name  in  their  minds  synonymous  with 
justice  and  protection — that  they  even  allowed  one  of  their  head- 
nivn  to  accompany  the  recruiter  to  Johannesburg.  I  would 
mention  I  have  no  national  prejudice  and  hold  no  brief  for 
England,  because  by  the  accident  of  birth  I  was  born  there.  I 
have  based  my  views  on  what  I  have  seen  tor  myself. 

237 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

The  natives  of  Ovamboland  are  a  fine  sturdy  race  of  people, 
unconquered  as  yet.  They  are  as  contemptuous  of  the  weak  and 
lax  rule  of  the  Portuguese  as  they  are  distrustful  and  fearful  of 
the  harsh  and  militaristic  colonising  methods  of  the  Germ.ans, 
who  are  the  rulers — at  present,  the  nominal  rulers  only — of  the 
southern  part  of  their  country.  Their  hope  was  that  they  might 
proceed  en  ma-sse  with  all  their  cattle,  Avomen  and  children  into 
British  territory,  where  they  had  learnt  that  other  weapons  than 
rifles  were  used  for  colonising  puiposes. 

A  Johannesburg  recruiting  company  decided  to  fit  out  an 
expedition  to  bring  these  natives  to  the  mines,  notwithstanding 
the  thousands  of  unrailed  miles  that  intervened,  and  to  settle 
their  women  and  chikhen  on  farms,  in  either  the  Transvaal  or  the 
Gaberones  district  of  the  Bechuanaland  Pjotectorate.  The  task 
of  equipping  this  expedition  was  given  into  the  hands  of  Morgan. 
Theoretically,  the  idea  was  sound  ;  practically — and  in  the  re- 
cruiter's hands — it  was  not.  The  magnitude  of  the  proposition 
was  grasped  by  none.  Sitting  in  the  lounge  of  the  Victoria  Hotel 
in  Johannesburg  it  was  easy  to  regard  a  trek  of  a  thousand  miles 
as  of  little  consequence,  to  supply  a  thousand  natives  Avith  food 
for  six  weeks  as  a  detail  barely  worth  considering.  On  the 
veld,  however,  it  Avas  another  niatter. 

Morgan  was  a  man  of  great  ingenuity  and  perseverance, 
besides  other  excellent  qualities  ;  but  he  was  without  the 
faintest  idea  of  business  or  of  the  value  of  money.  He  had 
a  most  persuasive  manner  ;  whilst  you  were  under  the  spell  of 
liis  fluent  tongue  he  would  convince  you  tliat  black  was  wliite. 
He  was,  consequently,  an  ideal  reci'uiter,  never  being  at  a  loss 
for  an  argument  to  convince  a  native  tliat  th.ere  was  but  one 
ideal  occupation  for  him — namely,  to  work  in  the  gold  mines  of 
the  Transvaal.  Unfoi'tunatcly — i'or  his  oinployers — his  ideas 
of  business  were  so  pcculiai- that  in  nuiiiy  cases  he  would  spend 
seventy  shillings  in  ordc!'  to  contract  a  boy  for  iiis  recruiting 
house,  which,  in  turn,  would  only  receive  sixty  shillings  from 
the  mine.  This  unbusiness-like  method  and  unprofitable  result 
worried  liim  not  a  jot,  so  long  as  he  rccjuitcd  tljc  natue  !  l-'ar 

238 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND 

be  it  from  my  purpose  to  underrate  the  character  of  my  com- 
panion, or  to  dwell  only  on  his  weaknesses  ;  but,  in  order  to 
sketch  from  the  beginning  the  course  of  our  strange  expedition,  I 
am  compelled  to  throw  a  clear  light  on  the  deficiencies  of  its 
leader.  Morgan,  however,  with  all  his  weaknesses  was  a  splendid 
companion,  his  stories  of  a  varied  career  whiling  away  many  a 
pleasant  hour  by  the  camp  fire.  I  have  refrained  from  giving 
his  real  name  as  I  have  no  wish  to  cast  any  reflection  on  a  man 
who,  with  all  his  faults,  was  yet  quite  a  good  fellow.  If  I  met  our 
erratic  leader  to-morrow,  the  past  bitterness  being  long  effaced 
from  my  memory,  I  would  conjure  up  with  him  the  pleasant 
days  and  weeks  we  spent  together  on  the  open  veld. 

Our  party  consisted  of  four  white  men,  one  of  whom  was  en- 
gaged in  the  Protectorate  as  our  transport-rider.  I  will  call  him 
Brown.  For  similar  reasons  to  those  above  I  do  not  give  his  correct 
name.  My  brother,  my  senior  by  a  couple  of  years,  was  the  other 
member  of  the  party.  We  two  were  engaged  by  Morgan,  or  by  the 
recruiting  house  in  Johannesburg,  or  both  ;  when  it  came  to  the 
question  of  receiving  monies  due  for  services  we  were  referred 
by  the  one  to  the  other — quite  the  Johannesburg  method  !  It 
was  impressed  on  both  of  us  before  leaving  the  Transvaal  that 
secrecy  was  essential  for  the  success  of  the  expedition,  in  order 
to  avoid  putting  our  rivals  on  the  qui  vivc.  Consequently  we 
both  of  us  religiously  kept  our  mouths  shut,  not  even  mention- 
ing to  our  friends  the  destination  or  object  of  the  expedition  ; 
but  lo  and  behold  !  when  we  arrived  at  Pala^^e  Road  we  found 
tliat  what  the  Bechuanaland  Protectorate  did  not  know  of  the 
scheme  was  not  worth  knowing.  In  short,  everybody  there  knew 
far  more  than  we  did.  Not  only  was  the  trip  common  knowledge 
of  the  Protectorate,  but  nearly  all  the  traders  in  the  northern 
territory  had  received  from  our  sanguine  leader  wondci'ful 
promises  of  contracts  to  supply  the  vast  hordes  of  natives  that 
were  to  come.  If  ever  thcj'c  were  a  case  of  counting  chickens 
before  tlicy  were  hatched  it  was  in  connection  with  this  expedi- 
tion. The  gullibility  of  the  traders  was  also  very  amusing, 
though  "  people  in  glass  houses  should  not  throw  stones." 

239 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

After  our  arrival  in  Palapye  preparations  for  the  trek  went 
apace  ;  at  least  the  lavish  expenditure  of  money  did.  Morgan 
was  in  his  element.  Hundreds  of  pounds  ran  like  water 
through  his  hands  ;  nothing  was  too  expensive  for  the  out- 
fit. Stores  galore  were  puj'chased,  including  useless  Kafir 
"truck"  for  trading  purposes;  medicines  enough  to  keep 
a  doctor  in  practice  for  twelve  months  ;  provisions,  from 
cases  of  hams  to  hundreds  of  bottles  of  Worcester  sauce. 
Waggons — brand  new— were  brought  from  Mafcking  ;  trek- 
oxen,  quite  untrained,  were  bought  at  top  prices,  as  seasoned 
spans. 

Perhaps,  however,  the  crowning  act  was  IMorgan's  purchase  of 
twenty-eight  young  mares,  in  foal,  from  the  Orange  River 
Colony,  to  take  up  to  Ovamboland.  This  alone  represented  an 
outlay  of  nearly  seven  hundred  pomids.  The  screaming  folly 
of  it  was  that  Ngamiland,  through  which  we  had  to  trek,  was 
a  very  hotbed  of  horse-sickness  ;  added  to  this,  there  was  the 
recognised  danger  in  taking  a  party  of  young  mares,  in  foal,  for 
a  long,  weary  trek  of  months,  part  of  it  through  the  waterless 
stretches  of  the  Kalahari  Desert  and  part  through  lion-infested 
veld.  A  "  greenhorn  "  might  have  been  forgiven  for  such  a 
colossal  piece  of  folly,  but  that  an  apparently  sane  person,  who 
had  just  traversed  the  very  districts  where  the  deadly  ravages 
of  horse-sickness  would  be  noticeable  almost  to  a  blind  man, 
should  commit  such  a  mad  action,  passes  one's  comprehension.  In 
fact,  doubts  as  to  the  sanity  of  our  leader  were  raised,  and  I  for 
one  would  not  like  to  say  whether  these  fears  were  unfounded  or 
not ;  for  to  consider  him  unbalanced  seems  to  be  the  kindest  and 
most  charitable  way  to  explain  such  a  reckless  waste  of  money. 
Unfortunately  neither  my  brother  nor  I  could  do  anything  to 
check  the  foolish  expenditure  that  went  on  daily.  Conditions 
in  Bcchuanaland  were  strange  to  my  brother,  who  was  used  to 
the  colony,  whilst  I,  of  course,  was  then  quite  ignorant  of  any 
veld  lore  at  all.  Further,  Morgan  was  the  recognised  leader  of 
the  expedition  and  we  were  both  kept  much  in  the  dark  ic^'ard- 
ing  these  pureluises  ;  jnost  of  our  information  was  gained  from 

240 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND 

outside  sources.  Everything  was  in  a  pitiable  state  of  chaos  ! 
At  last,  however,  the  unending  delay  and  the  fast-accumulating 
outlay  raised  very  natural  doubts  in  the  minds  of  the  promoters 
in  Johannesburg  as  to  the  fitness  of  Morgan  for  the  position  of 
leader.  A  week  spent  in  exchanging  abusive  and  edifying  tele- 
grams at  twopence  a  word  then  ensued  ;  edifying,  at  least,  to 
the  telegraph  officials  in  the  Protectorate  and  to  their  pals  (from 
whom  one  could  generally  obtain  any  news  telegraphed).  As 
the  promoters  had  gone  so  far,  they  could  hardly  turn  back  ; 
so  the  recruiter  won  the  day. 

We  had  purchased  by  now  three  waggons,  each  with  its  span 
of  oxen  (eighteen  in  a  span),  the  troop  of  horses,  a  case  of  '450 
Martini  rifles,  with  ammmiition,  besides  some  shot-guns  and 
sporting  "303  rifles.  The  waggons  were  all  heavily  loaded  with 
the  stores,  the  trading  goods  and  a  load  of  saddles  for  the 
young  horses.  After  a  protracted  delay  of  nearly  three  weeks 
in  Palapye  we  were  ready  to  commence  trekking  to  Serowe, 
which  is  the  capital  of  Chief  Khama's  country. 

Palapye  was  not  a  very  exciting  place  in  which  to  spend  three 
weeks.  It  was  a  small  dorp,  a  station  on  the  Rhodesian  line.  It 
possessed  about  twenty  or  thirty  houses  ;  and  near  it  was  a  small 
native  village.  Chief  Khama's  capital  had  once  been  romid 
Palapye,  but  had  migrated — a  habit  Khama  indulged  in  quite 
frequently  till  the  tendency  was  checked  by  a  suggestion  from 
Mafeking  that  it  was  advisable  to  stop  in  one  place.  Besides  the 
railway  station,  Palapye  possessed  a  hotel  and  one  or  two  trading 
stores.  Beyond  that  it  had  nothing  much  to  offer  in  the  way  of 
attractions.  Before  leaving  Palapye  I  had  to  ride  over  to  Serowe 
to  obtain  the  necessary  lie  ences  for  our  guns  ;  though  the 
distance  was  only  forty  miles  I  was  fairly  stiff  on  my  return. 
When  in  Palapye  I  used  to  spend  an  hour  or  tvro  a  day  trying  to 
recall  the  rudiments  of  horse-riding  which  the  Woolwich  Riding 
School  had  painfully  impressed  on  me  some  years  back.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  recovering  a  little,  though  not  without  having  given 
some  amusing  displays  on  the  horse  and  on  the  gromrd  for  the 
edification  of  the  elite  of  the  little  dorp.  There  was  this  about 
Q  241 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

our  expedition  that,  if  it  did  nothing  else,  it  did  at  least  add 
to  the  gaiety  of  dorps. 

On  tlie  morning  of  the  19th  May  (1910)  our  huge  "  caravan  " 
struggled  out  of  Palapye  ;  I  say  "  struggled  out "  because  we 
didn't  tiek  out.  Our  cattle,  purchased  from  the  local  hotel- 
keepei"  as  trained  spans,  had  apparently  never  before  seen  a 
yoke  ;  hence  our  start  was  a  series  of  ten-yard  movements,  and 
ten-minute  stops,  to  repair  broken  skeys  and  sti'ops.  In  one  hour 
we  covci'cd  a  good  five  hundred  yards,  one  hundred  of  which  had 
been  trekked  without  more  than  two  five-minute  stops.  By  the 
time  we  were  two  miles  on  our  way  it  was  time  to  outspan,  as 
the  sun  was  ah'eady  high  in  the  heavens. 

We  were  now  in  the  desert.  The  Kalahari,  however,  is  no  desert 
in  appearance,  as  gj'ass  grows  abundantly  during  the  scanty 
rains  in  summer,  and  even  during  the  diy  months  it  is  not  scarce, 
TIic  average  rainfall  of  the  year  in  the  desert  is  about  ten  inches. 
TJie  bush,  scrub  and  stunted  trees  that  cover  the  Kalahari  are 
more  or  less  evergreen  the  whole  year  j'ound.  It  is  generally 
assumed  that  there  is  an  abundant  water  supply  not  far  from 
the  surface,  and  there  is  little  doubt  that  if  one  could  but  hit 
upon  an  inexpensive  method  of  tapping  the  underground 
supplies  of  water  in  the  Kalahari  the  inhos]:)itable  stretches  of 
desert  could  be  converted  into  a  country  capable  of  cariying 
stock  hi  large  quantities.  The  Kalahari  is  vci-y  flat,  consisting  of 
level  plains,  three  thousand  feet  above  ihe  sea,  of  light,  sandy 
soil,  vai'ied  at  times  by  undulating  sand-dunes.  Occasional  small 
liills  o]-  low  kopjes  appear,  as  at  Quebe  Hills — not  far  from 
Lake  Ngami. 

There  are  practically  no  inhabitants  i]i  the  Kalahari,  owing 
to  tlie  lack  of  water,  though  wandering  l^ushmen,  who  live  as 
near  to  Nature  as  is  ]:)0ssi])le  for  any  liuman  being,  exist  where 
no  ^v]lite  me]i  could.  These  Ijusluncn  ^\■;]]  obtain  Avaterljy  sucking 
it  up  Jroiu  the  groinid  with  rccd^,  ;;n(l  can  also  exist  for  days  on 
a  s])ecies  of  water-iriclo]!  which  grows  abundantly  in  the  desert 
at  cei'tain  ]')criods  of  the  ycai .  Large  herds  of  game  loam  in  these 
wale  less  and  inhospitable  regions.  (Jiiafi'e  and  certain  of  tlie 

242 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAXD 

antelope  will  find  here  a  safe  retreat  for  many  years  yet  to  come. 
Soon  the  Kalahari  will  be  the  one  big  game  reserve  of  Africa. 
Unfortunately,  besides  being  a  resort  for  big  game  safe  from  the 
hunter's  gim,  it  is  also  an  unassailable  breeding-place  for  locusts, 
whence  vast  flights  periodically  invade  the  adjoining  colonies, 
doing  incalculable  harm. 

When  the  sun  was  low  in  the  afternoon  sky  we  inspanned 
again.  I  must  mention  that  our  erratic  leader  had  at  the  last 
moment  decided  to  remain  a  few  more  days  in  Palapye,  so  the 
leadership  for  a  time  devolved  on  my  brother.  It  is  fatal  to 
have  two  bosses  in  one  party  ;  disorder  and  disagreement  arc 
the  inevitable  result.  The  painfully  slow  task  of  inspanning  the 
oxen,  due  to  the  cattle  being  completely  untrained,  was  at  last 
finished.  We  started  trekking  again,  the  oxen  pulling  wildly 
as  before.  Towards  sundown  they  commenced  to  pull  more 
together,  but  during  this  second  trek  also  numerous  skeys  were 
broken.  After  the  oxen  had  been  in  the  yokes  for  three  hours 
we  outspanned  them  for  the  night. 

Nearly  all  transport-riders  have  their  own  favourite  methods 
of  arranging  the  times  and  the  number  of  their  treks  during  the 
twenty-four  hours.  Much,  of  course,  depends  on  the  circum- 
stances in  which  you  find  yourself,  the  amount  of  time  you  have 
at  your  disposal  for  the  journey,  the  weight  of  your  load,  the 
size  and  condition  of  your  spans  of  oxen,  the  distance  between 
water,  and  so  on.  In  our  position  we  were  not  pressed  for  time, 
OTir  spans  were  young  and  unti'aincd  and  our  waggons  were 
heavily  laden  ;  so  we  decided,  for  a  time  at  any  rate,  to  make 
but  two  ti'eks  in  the  twenty-four  hours — one  in  the  early  morning 
and  one  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  each  of  about  three  hours 
in  duration.  Three  hours  is  the  longest  time  for  keeping  a  span 
of  oxen  in  the  yokes,  especially  if  a  long  journey  lies  ahead. 
You  cannot,  however,  rigidly  adheix'  to  any  fixed  rule  on  the 
vckl,  as  so  much  dejicnds  on  circumstances — and  untoward 
circumstances  too  ! 

It  was  dark  when  the  oxen  were  all  tied  to  the  yol<.es  for  the 
niglit.  Ilalley'.b  comet  was  clear  and  bright  in  the  starry  heavens 

243 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

as  we  lay  by  the  camp  fire  near  the  white-tented  waggons.  Just 
before  dawn  we  inspanned  and  pushed  on  over  the  heavy  sand 
till  M'e  reached  water  at  a  small  well  half-wa}-.  It  was  very  cold 
before  the  sun  rose,  as  it  was  winter-time ;  to  warm  ourselves 
we  spin-red  our  horses  over  a  hard  stretch  of  veld.  As  they 
galloped  over  the  springy  turf  the  keen  crisp  air  of  the  Kalahari, 
the  most  bracing  in  the  woi-ld,  made  our  faces  tingle  and  glow, 
horses  as  well  as  riders  experiencing  to  the  full  the  joy  of 
life.  As  may  be  imagined,  we  heartily  appreciated  a  break- 
fast of  chops,  grilled  on  the  burning  embers,  M-ashed  down  with 
good  coffee — which  we  knew  was  coffee  as  we  had  roasted  the 
beans  ourselves.  The  oxen  were  turned  out  to  graze  in  charge  of 
the  cattle-watcher,  our  horses  also,  after  having  knee-haltered 
them.  To  kncc-h alter  your  horse  on  the  veld  is  as  essential 
as  keeping  your  rifle  clean  ;  otherwise  you  will  have  to  spend  a 
fcAV  weary  hours  in  picking  up  the  spoor  of  the  strayed  animal. 
During  the  heat  of  the  day  we  smoked  and  dozed  in  the  shade 
of  the  waggon.  The  natives  did  the  same,  when  not  eating.  The 
cattle,  when  they  had  eaten  their  fill,  would  stand  motionless 
out  of  the  glare  of  the  midday  sun  under  the  scanty  shade  of 
some  stunted  tree. 

Inspanning  when  the  sun  was  sinking,  we  had  not  been 
trekking  an  hour  before  the  front  waggon,  through  careless  driv- 
ing, smashed  its  dissclboom  by  coming  hard  u])  against  the  stump 
of  a  tree.  This  is  not  a  very  serious  or  unusual  occurrence  on  the 
veld  ;  but  then  it  appeared  a  huge  disaster.  This  sudden  intro- 
duction to  trouble  on  the  veld  quite  disconcerted  us  both. 
Instead  of  dispatching  the  driver  and  the  voorlooper  with  axes 
to  cut  dovvn  a  tree  and  shape  it  to  the  required  size — the  usual 
course  of  procedure^ — my  brother  and  I  started  to  splice  the 
broken  sliaft  with  bolts,  the  natives  calmly  looking  on  whilst  we 
worked  like  Trojans.  Our  splice  was  but  temporary,  as  half-an- 
hour  afterwards  the  strain  of  the  um'uly  span  smashed  the 
waggon-shaft  again.  Nothing  daunted,  we  renewed  the  splice  by 
the  micertain  light  of  a  flickering  candle,  strengthening  it  this 
time  by  means  of  wet  strips  of  hide.  The  job  completed,  we  once 

244 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND 

again  resumed  our  trek.  We  were  much  in  trouble  during  that 
trek  to  Serowe,  or  so  it  appeared  to  us  then.  Our  disselhoom 
smashed  three  times.  My  brother  and  I  each  lost  our  way  in 
the  veld.  We  had,  moreover,  not  the  faintest  idea  how  much 
food  to  give  our  natives.  In  short,  all  sorts  of  little  trifles  worried 
us  then,  little  molehills  seeming  in  our  eyes  like  momitains.  I 
am  sure  my  brother,  somewhere  up  in  the  African  wilds,  must 
smile  as  I  do  when  he  recalls  our  first  experiences  on  the  Kala- 
hari veld.  His  laiowledge  of  trekking  in  the  colony  was  no  help 
to  him  here,  the  conditions  being  so  different  ;  as  for  me,  I  had 
then  about  as  much  idea  of  inspanning  an  ox  as  a  Christian 
parson  has  of  Buddhism. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  that  eventful  trek  came  to 
an  end.  We  outspanned  in  the  stadt  of  Serowe,  the  capital  of 
Chief  Khama's  country,  the  Bamangwato  reserve.  His  village 
was  a  large  one,  consisting  of  numerous  grass-thatched  huts, 
made  of  reeds  and  mud,  each  location  being  separated  by  narrov/ 
lanes  or  passages  deep  in  sand.  Here  and  there  the  whitewashed 
tin  roof  of  a  trading  store  or  the  residence  of  a  trader,  stood  out 
above  the  sea  of  huts.  It  was  hard  work  for  man  or  beast  to 
plod  through  the  heavy  sand  round  the  huts  ;  and  to  lose  one's 
^vay  was  the  easiest  thing  imaginable.  Here  and  there  amidst 
the  locations  a  solitary  tree  threw  a  scanty  shade  over  an  open 
sandy  place,  on  which  was  erected  a  semicircle  of  tree  poles, 
twelve  feet  or  so  in  height — the  judgment  seat  or  kgotla  of  a 
headman.  Early  morning  would  see  Khama  sitting  in  his  kgotla 
surrounded  by  his  headmen,  dispensing  Justice.  When  the  sun's 
rays  appeared  over  the  walls  the  court  was  dissolved. 

On  the  day  after  our  arrival  we  met  the  old  chief,  who, 
notwithstanding  his  eighty  years,  is  still  a  fine,  well-preserved 
man,  lean,  but  straight  as  a  dart.  Even  to-day  he  is  one  of 
the  finest  horsemen  in  his  tribe  and  can  ride  to  a  standstill  the 
best  of  his  braves.  He  is  the  leading  chief  of  Bechuanaland  and 
was  present  as  such  at  the  diamond  jubilee  of  Queen  Victoria. 
I  saw  in  his  house  a  signed  portrait  of  Queen  Victoria  and  one 
of  the  late  King  Edward,  of  both  of  which  he  was  inordinately 

245 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

proud.  During  the  year  1910  he  celebrated  the  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  his  membership  in  the  Christian  Church.  The  old  chief 
is  a  rich  man  and  owns  many  herds  of  cattle.  He  has,  besides, 
so  rumour  informed  one,  a  substantial  balance  at  the  bank. 
Khama  receives  an  annual  sum  from  the  Government  as  well  as 
a  certain  percentage  of  the  hut -tax  receipts.  The  mining  rights 
of  his  territory  are  owned  by  the  Chartered  Company,  from 
which  he  receives  a  certain  grant. 

My  conversation  with  him  was  through  the  medium  of  an 
interpreter,  as  Khama  feigns  ignorance  of  the  English  language, 
though  he  has  more  knowledge  than  he  confesses.  The  interview 
was  with  the  object  of  learning  where  we  might  make  our  camp 
during  our  stay  in  his  village.  We  were  told  that  we  could  camp 
at  the  Mukwe,  a  few  miles  outside  Serowe  ;  here  the  grazing  was 
good  and  the  water  plentiful — two  essentials  for  a  party  with 
so  much  live-stock. 

The  following  evening  we  trekked  towards  our  camping-place. 
There  were  one  or  two  nasty  hollows  for  our  waggons  to  negotiate 
before  the  regular  waggon  track  was  gained  ;  and  with  our  un- 
trained spans  we  feared  disaster.  Fortunately  the  waggons  passed 
safely  through  the  sluits,  and  when  they  reached  the  heavy  sand 
road  my  brother  and  I  rode  on  ahead.  The  night  was  a  perfect 
one,  and  a  full  moon  lit  up  the  country  round  as  though  it 
were  day.  No  moon  seems  to  have  such  brilliancy  as  that  which 
shines  in  an  African  sky  ! 

Riding  in  Indian  hie  over  the  narrow  waggon  track,  we  reached 
the  Mukwe,  where  we  looked  for  a  suitable  place  to  make  our 
camp,  bearing  in  mind  the  necessity  for  high  ground  and 
proximity  to  water.  Having  found  a  likely  spot  we  kindled  a 
fire  and  lay  down  alongside  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  waggons. 
Our  horses,  now  off-saddled,  stood  tethered  to  a  tree  close  by. 
Everything  was  very  peaceful  and  still. 

Presently  the  cracking  of  wliips  and  the  shouting  of  the  drivers 
announced  the  approach  of  the  waggons  which  shortly  loomed 
in  sight,  the  poor  oxen  plodding  wearily  in  their  yokes,  as  the 
sand  was  very  heavy. 

246 


\\  \l'^■|•;.   oiR  -r,\i<|-|  m;   ]■<  >i\  r 


W  \  M.  u:  \.,   (■  \  I  i  ;  ]'.    1  \    I  i!!-:    I\  \i  \n  \i>i    1  M 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND 

Next  day  our  natives  were  kept  busy  in  making  kraals  (bush 
enclosures)  for  the  cattle  and  horses,  chopping  down  thorn 
bushes  for  the  puipose.  We  then  started  the  task,  one  of  no  httlc 
magnitude,  of  branding  the  young  mares.  ])uring  this  operation 
I  sighed  for  the  skill  of  one  of  those  Califoinians  in  using  the 
lasso  ;  the  blundering  and  crude  methods  of  the  natives  made 
me  almost  weep  for  my  own  inability  to  demonstrate  how  they 
should  go  about  their  task.  However,  time  being  no  object,  the 
task  of  branding  was  eventually  accomplished. 

The  natives  attached  to  our  expedition  were  nearly  all 
Damaras,  refugees  from  German  South-West  Africa.  The 
Damaras,  or  Hereros,  as  they  are  more  often  called,  are  an  in- 
telligent race  of  natives  ;  in  fact,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  most 
intelligent  races  in  Africa.  They  are  very  musical,  some  of  them 
possessing  excellent  voices.  To  hear  a  party  of  them — men  and 
women — singing  on  the  veld  is  a  positive  treat. 

The  Damara  native  has  excellent  material  and  can  be  ruled 
easily  if  properly  handled.  He  needs  firm  but  just  treatment. 
Rouse  the  devil  in  him  and  he  will  respond  pretty  quickly,  as 
many  a  German  knows  to  his  cost  ;  let  him  get  the  upper  hand 
by  weak  treatment  and  it  is  the  devil's  own  job  to  get  him  in 
his  place  again,  as  we  soon  knew.  Most  of  the  natives  engaged 
to  come  on  this  trek  had  been  with  Morgan  on  his  first  trip  from 
Mossamedes.  Morgan's  recruiting  methods — cliiefly  bribery  and 
conciliation — v;crc  the  worst  possible  to  command  in  an  expedi- 
tion such  as  ours,  where  big  and  valuable  interests  were  at  stake. 
Natives  as  servants  and  natives  as  prospective  recruits  for  a 
mine  need  quite  different  treatment.  From  the  outset  we  had 
trouble  with  our  Damaras.  Only  two  or  three  days  after  we  had 
camped  at  the  Mukwe,  by  which  time  the  recruiter  had  arrived, 
several  of  the  natives  rode  into  Serowe,  tliough  told  only  to 
exercise  some  of  the  young  horses  near  the  camp.  News  reached 
us  that  our  Damaras  were  carousing  on  Kafir  beer  in  a  kraal 
in  the  stadt,  and  that  the  horses  were  still  saddled  and  at  the 
mercy  of  any  passer-by,  I  was  despatched  by  the  recruiter  to 
settle  the  matter ;  this  I  did  by  using  fairly  sharp  and  vigorous 

247 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

methods.  I  found  the  natives  stupidly  drunk  ;  so  I  kraaledthe 
horses,  leaving  them  in  the  care  of  a  ti-ader,  and  compelled  the 
natives  to  walk  back  to  tJic  camp.  Tlie  following  day  they  com- 
plained bitterly  of  this  tieatment  to  Moi'gan,  who,  though  to  my 
face  supported  my  action,  behind  my  back  (I  learned  afterwards) 
sided  with  the  natives.  Fi'om  the  start  to  the  finish  the  recruiter 
undermined  the  authority  of  the  other  white  men  in  the  party, 
with  the  intention  of  making  it  a  "  one-man  show."  He  blustered 
to  our  faces  and  used  threats  of  punishment  when  any  of  us 
reported  insubordination  on  the  part  of  certain  natives,  while 
beliind  our  backs  he  belittled  our  authority.  The  expedition  was 
doomed  to  failure  from  the  outset  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  that 
the  trek  gave  us  the  opportunity  of  visiting  parts  of  Africa 
unknown  to  us,  both  my  brother  and  I  would  have  then  and 
there  severed  our  connection  with  the  whole  affair. 

Our  leader  now  took  into  his  head  to  return  to  Johannesburg 
to  explain,  or  to  endeavour  to  do  so,  the  reason  of  the  unendmg 
delay  and  the  excessive  expenditure  which  had  now  readied 
the  sum  of  thi'cc  thousand  pounds — a  sum  more  than  treble 
what  was  actually  needed  ! 

It  was  arranged  that  I  should  go  ahead  with  two  of  the  waggons 
and  twenty  of  tlie  horses,  as  it  was  not  advisable  for  all  to  reach 
the  wells  at  the  same  time  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of  water 
in  them.  The  transport-i'ider  whom  we  had  engaged  was  to 
accompany  me  to  assist  with  his  knowledge  of  the  veld.  His 
chief  trait,  howevei',  \\as  that  he  was  a  most  colossal  liar;  though, 
to  do  him  justice,  in  no  way  a  malicious  one.  In  African  parlance. 
Brown  was  a  terrible-  "  cliancei'."  The  numljcr  of  lions  he  had 
shot  was  enormous  ;  the  charges  he  had  led  in  the  Boer  War 
were  legion  !  He  had  been  brought  up  in  the  native  stadt  of 
Scj'owe  and  iiad  iinl)i}K'd  much  of  the  native  method  of  thought 
and  jea^oning,  and,  unfortunately,  much  of  the  unreliability  of 
the  nati\'e  too.  He  was  nevertheless  a  woi'ker,  and  possessed  an 
excellent  dispc)>ition.  Brown  was,  indeed,  a  most  amiable  chap, 
nevei'  getting  the  least  offended  if  you  went  to  sleep  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  his  stii'ring  chai'ges  in  the  Boer  War.  In  our 

248 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  TREK  TO  OVAMBOLAND 

"  slim  "  leader's  hands  he  was  a  child  ;  and  the  last  I  heard  of  the 
unfortunate  chap  was  that  he  was  a  prisoner  in  Portuguese 
Africa  on  a  charge  of  gun-running,  one  of  the  waggons  with  him 
having  more  guns  than  the  permit  called  for. 

On  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  June  I  bade  farewell  to  my 
brother,  who  was  left  in  charge  of  the  camp  at  Hukwe,  and  with 
Brown  rode  away  to  overtake  the  waggons  and  horses  that  had 
gone  on  ahead. 


249 


CHAPTER    VI 

TREKKING   THE    KALAHARI    DESERT 

WE  oveitook  the  waggons  not  three  miles  beyond  the 
camp  and  found  one  of  them  ah-eady  broken  down, 
the  "  bugle  "  of  the  disselhoom  having  parted  under 
the  heavy  strain  of  the  thick  sand.  Repairing  the  damage,  after 
an  hour's  delay^ — and  what  is  an  hour  on  the  veld,  where  you 
reckon  in  days  and  weeks  ? — we  trekked  on  reaching  water 
towards  evening,  after  one  short  outspan  at  midday.  The  sand 
in  places  was  terribly  heavy.  The  oxen  sometimes  stuck  fast, 
the  waggons  being  far  too  heavily  laden.  We  outspanned  by  the 
water  for  the  night,  kraaling  the  horses  and  fastening  the  oxen  to 
their  yokes.  That  night  I  held  an  indabav;ii\\  the  waggon  natives 
and  endeavoured  to  repair,  so  far  as  was  possible,  the  damage 
already  done  by  our  leader.  I  explained  to  the  natives  that  if 
Brown  and  I  told  them  to  do  something  it  had  to  be  done  ;  that 
it  was  idle  for  them  to  contiiiue  telling  us  what  the  recruiter 
used  to  allow  them  to  do.  I  told  them  bluntly  that  here  I  was 
their  boss.  Further,  I  arranged  their  rations.  This  also  caused 
considerable  discontent,  as  the  foolish  recruiter  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  giving  them  Boer  meal,  whilst  I  had  on  the  waggon  only 
mealies  and  Kafir  corn,  which  is  the  usual  food  for  natives. 
I  allotted  to  each  boy  his  duties,  making  one  of  them  the  boss- 
boy  for  the  horses. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  things  were  arranged,  for  it 
was  a  slow  task  talking  to  the  natives,  some  of  whom  were 
Bcchuanas  and  some  Damaras,  through  the  medium  of  two 
interpreters.  Brown,  of  course,  spoke  Bechuana  fluently  having 
been  born  in  the  country,  but  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the 
Damui'M.  language.  One  needs  unlimited  patience  for  indabas 

250 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

with  natives,  as  they  never  broach  a  subject  directly  but  beat 
all  round  the  bush. 

The  scene  was  picturesque.  The  two  white  men  sitting  on 
boxes  with  their  dogs  curled  up  at  their  feet.  The  group  of 
natives  squatting  round  the  fire,  the  flickering  rays  of  which 
illuminated  their  ebony  faces  and  the  overhanging  leafy 
branches  of  the  kameeldoorn  under  which  all  were  grouped. 
Close  by,  in  the  shadow,  the  white  tents  of  the  waggons  stood  out 
in  bold  relief.  The  oxen  tied  to  the  yokes  lay  slumbering  peace- 
fully. But  for  the  shrill  cry  of  a  night-bird,  the  rustle  of  a  sneak- 
ing jackal  in  the  bush,  or  the  far-off  howl  of  a  marauding  wolf 
- — nothing  broke  the  quiet  stillness  of  the  African  night. 

As  we  found  that  one  or  two  articles  necessary  for  trek  had 
been  left  behind  we  did  not  inspan  the  following  day,  but  sent 
back  a  runner  to  fetch  what  was  needed.  Brown  went  out  with 
his  gun  towards  some  neighbouring  kopjes  to  find  something 
for  the  pot.  He  returned  in  the  evening  with  a  couple  of  guinea- 
fowl,  which  were  plentiful  in  the  neighbourhood.  We  had  one 
each  for  our  supper.  Imagine,  dear  reader,  eating  a  fat  fowl  for 
your  evening  meal.  It  would  be  a  hard  task  in  civilised  life,  but 
not  in  the  least  on  the  veld.  What  the  natives  obtained  from 
the  remains  of  our  meal  was  not  very  much.  After  a  couple  of 
pipes  and  a  few  stirring  yarns  from  my  companion  we  turned 
in.  We  slept  that  night  in  the  waggon,  as  rain  had  set  in — rather 
an  unusual  occurrence  for  that  time  of  the  year. 

We  spent  most  of  the  following  day  in  overhauling  our  bridles 
and  saddles,  shortening  girths,  and  selecting  stirrups  and  bits 
out  of  the  stock  in  the  waggon.  The  horse-gear,  which  we  had 
purchased  in  Pretoria,  was  all  condemned  military  stock,  the 
saddles  being  the  old  pattern  used  by  the  Indian  army,  particu- 
larly suitable  for  our  young  and  untrained  horses,  not  to  mention 
one  untrained  rider  ! 

In  the  al'tei'iioon  we  insjoanned  and  trekked  on  till  the  sun  had 
set,  making  but  poor  progress  over  the  heavy  sand.  We  camped 
for  the  night  beside  two  other  waggons  which  had  just  come 
down  from  Lake  Ngami.  The  t^v'o  Dutchmen  with  the  waggons, 

251 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

one  of  whom  was  a  missionary,  told  us  that  they  had  come  from 
the  Ghansi  veld  (which  lies  on  the  borders  of  German  South- 
West  Africa)  via  the  Lake.  From  them  we  learnt  all  the  news 
of  the  road.  The  first  and  chief  topic  of  conversation  between 
those  meeting  each  other  trekking  the  Kalahari,  whether  natives 

or  white  men,  is  water.  "  Where  is  the  next  water  ?  "  "  Is 

pan  dry  ?  "    "  Has  well  any  water  ?  "    These  are  the 

questions  each  puts  on  first  meeting.  We  learnt  here  that,  though 
the  water  in  the  wells  and  vleis  thi'ough  the  desert  M'as  very 
scanty,  Lake  Ngami  was  filling  up  for  the  first  time  in  ten  years, 
and  that  the  River  Botletle  was  overflowing  its  banks  every- 
where ;  so  much  so  that  all  waggons  had  now  to  make  large 
detours.  This  was  no  good  news  for  us,  with  our  heavy  waggons 
and  large  quantity  of  young  live-stock. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  sent  back  our  spans  of  oxen  and 
horses  to  the  last  water  as  it  was  full  sixteen  miles  to  the  next  ; 
and  this  meant  three  or  four  long  treks  for  our  heavily  laden 
waggons.  Shortly  after  noon  we  inspanned  as  the  day  was 
dull.  We  trekked  on  steadily  till  nearly  sundown,  when  we 
unyoked  the  cattle  to  give  them  a  graze.  Inspanning  again,  we 
pushed  on  through  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  only  outspan- 
ningfor  short  intervals  to  rest  the  oxen.  The  sand  was  terribly 
heavy  and  our  drivers  had  to  make  free  use  of  their  long  wliips 
to  urge  on  the  wearied  beasts.  Trekking  through  the  descit 
under  such  conditions  is  a  cruel  job. 

Just  before  noon  on  the  next  day  wo  reached  the  Kolokome 
well,  by  which  we  outspanned.  ^Ve  had  been  trekking  for  nearly 
fourteen  hours  to  cover  sixteen  miles- — hardly  more  than  one 
mile  per  hour  !  So  heavy  is  the  sand  in  the  desert  that  the 
wagsons  often  sink  to  their  axles  and  stick  fast.  Most  of  the 
veld  here  is  surrounded  by  low  kopjes  on  which  scrub  and  trees 
grow  abundantly.  The  ground  is  covered  with  tliorn  bushes 
of  all  descri])tions,  the  mimosa-thorn  being  prominent.  The 
waachi  een  heetjc  (wait  a  bit)  tliorn  fully  lived  up  to  its  name, 
its  hooked  s])ike  taking  many  a  thread  out  of  strong  khaki 
clothes. 

252 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

The  well  at  Kolokome  is  sunk  in  limestone  rock,  with  a  crude 
windlass  fixed  at  the  top  and  a  galvanised-iron  trough  to  hold 
the  water.  There  was  no  rope  so  we  utilised  our  oxen-rheims, 
tied  together,  to  haul  up  the  buckets  of  water.  The  well  at  Kolo- 
kome only  has  M'ater  alter  the  rains,  for  there  is  apparently  no 
natural  spring. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  watch  the  poor  cattle,  parched  with  dust 
and  thirst,  greedily  suck  up  the  welcome  liquid,  swelling  before 
our  eyes.  When  they  had  drunk  their  fill,  they  were  turned  out  to 
graze  in  charge  of  the  cattle-watcher. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  made  another  trek  to  the  next 
\vcll,  at  Momongwe.  Here  we  kraaled  the  horses  and  cattle  for 
the  night.  Since  a  messenger  we  were  daily  expecting  had  not 
yet  arrived,  we  decided  to  stop  by  this  well  to  wait  his  coming. 
He  ^vas  to  ])ring  on  the  rifles,  which  the  cattle-watchers  would 
need  in  the  lion  veld,  as  they  had  not  all  arrived  from  Pretoria 
when  we  left.  As  water  in  the  Momongwe  well  was  fairly  plenti- 
ful, it  was  a  suitable  camping-place.  The  veld  around  abounded 
in  birds  of  all  descriptions.  Namaqua  partridge  and  guinea-fowl 
were  especially  plentiful.  Consequently  we  always  had  plenty  of 
food  in  the  pot.  We  made  good  use  of  this  period  of  waiting  to 
doctor  up  the  horses,  some  of  which  had  become  badly  chafed 
about  their  heads  through  ill-fitting  head-stalls.  It  was  no  easy 
task  to  catch  them,  as  they  Avere  as  timid  and  wild  as  they 
could  possibly  be.  To  get  them  accustomed  to  being  handled, 
we  decided  to  picket  them  in  future,  whenever  possible, 
instead  of  merely  kraaling  them.  It  was,  however,  much  easier 
to  decide  to  do  this  than  to  do  it.  On  the  first  night  we  only 
succeeded  in  tying  up  half  of  them  ;  and  that  took  us  the  best 
part  of  two  hours  !  After  two  days'  waiting  no  messenger  had 
ai-rivccl.  Being  now  a  little  alive  to  the  unreliability  of  our 
leader's  promises,  I  decided  to  send  back  a  mounted  native  to 
fetch  the  rifles.  He  left  in  the  afternoon  ;  whilst  we  inspanned 
to  trek  to  the  next  water,  which  lay  twenty-six  miles  off,  in 
]Mukarane  Pan.  The  horses  went  ahead.  We  made  a  long  trek 
till  sundown.  At  dawn  we  trekked  on,  till  we  met  two  of  the 

253 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

horse-boys,  who  had  returned  to  inform  us  that  one  of  the 
mares  had  got  lost,  having  bolted,  frightened  by  a  sudden  move- 
ment in  the  bush.  Fearing  that  the  mare  might  return  to  Serowe, 
wliich  would  mean  a  long  delay  before  she  was  recovered,  we 
instructed  the  natives  to  get  on  the  spoor  of  the  horse  and 
not  to  return  till  they  had  located  the  animal's  whereabouts. 
Towards  evening  we  approached  the  vlei.  Here  we  outspanned, 
quickly  unyoking  the  thirsty  oxen  to  give  them  a  drink.  "We  drew 
up  our  waggons,  one  parallel  to  the  other,  and  between  them  we 
fastened  the  horse-line.  We  picketed  our  horses,  or,  at  least, 
as  many  as  we  could  catch  ;  and  these  we  only  caught  by 
holding  out  enticing  handfuls  of  mealies.  We  had  but  little  fear 
of  lions  here,  though  their  presence  was  not  unknown.  Indeed, 
on  my  return  trek  just  before  ari-ival  here,  a  party  of  lions  had 
travelled  right  into  the  desert  in  the  wake  of  a  big  mob  of  cattle, 
and  were  successful  in  securing  one  or  two.  Such  an  occurrence 
is,  however,  rare,  as  lions  generally  keep  near  water. 

The  water  in  ^lukai'anc  vlei  was  plentiful,  but  very  muddy. 
It  was  almost  impossible  to  drink  it  except  when  boiled  with 
coffee  ;  even  then  one  saw  in  one's  cup  a  thick  sediment  of  mud. 
To  wash  was  a  waste  of  time  ;  the  water  made  one,  if  an}^i;hing, 
more  dirty  than  before.  Tiekking  through  these  waterless 
stretches  of  the  Kalahai'i  is  poor  fun. 

Some  Kalahai'i  bushmen — the  Mosarwas — turned  up  at  the 
waggojis  shortly  after  we  had  outs])anncd  to  sell  us  milk.  As  our 
nati\'cs  had  retained  with  no  tiustworthy  infoi'mation  as  to 
the  missing  horse,  we  arranged  \\  ilh  tlic  bushmen  to  go  out  and 
iind  tlio  animal,  promising  them  soinc  tobacco  on  tlieir  return. 

The  Mosarwas  are  the  Ara])s  of  the  Kalahari.  In  appearance 
they  arc  sJiort,  lean  and  of  poor  physique,  their  prominent 
cheek-l)ones  givi]\g  them  almost  a  ■Vloiigolian  cast.  Two  ratlicr 
peculiar  ])liysieal  featmes  al)out  tliem  ai'c  thcMr  prominent 
buttocks,  pariiculai'ly  notieealjle  in  tlieir  Avomenfolk,  and  thcii' 
crinkled  and  creased  abdomeiis.  The  latter  peculiarity  is  due  to 
their  peiiodieal  feasts  and  fasts.  One  day,  when  opportunity  is 
kind,  they  will  eat  to  jcplelion — almost    to  ]3urstingq)oint — ■ 

254 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

their  stomachs  expanding  to  an  immense  size  ;  the  usual  spell 
of  starvation,  save  for  a  few  roots  or  berries,  will  ensue.  The 
consequent  contraction  is  not  hard  to  imagine.  The  Mosarwas 
are  undoubtedly  of  Hottentot  extraction — pm'c  bushmcn  are 
practically  extinct — being  similar  in  appearance  and  having 
some  like  customs  and  words.  Their  talk  has  been  described 
as  similar  to  the  snapping  of  a  rusty  flintlock,  being  nothing 
much  more  than  a  scries  of  clicks  and  clucks.  One  reason  put 
forward  to  explain  the  adoption  of  this  guttural  mode  of  speech 
is  that  their  presence  would  not  be  thereby  betrayed  to  the 
game  in  the  vicinity.  The  Mosarwas  are  held  in  contempt  by  all 
other  native  tribes,  as  they  possess  no  permanent  homes,  no 
lands  and  no  chief.  They  live  as  near  to  Nature  as  does  any 
aborigine  in  any  part  of  the  world,  existing  on  the  wide  veld  on 
roots,  berries  or  any  animal  they  may  chance  to  kill.  Their 
weapons  are  chiefly  the  spear  and  the  bow  and  ariow,  tipped 
witli  a  poison  which  is  extracted  from  a  grub  and  mixed  with 
snake  poison  and  gum.  This  is  most  deadly  in  its  action,  but 
very  slow  ;  a  giraffe,  struck  by  one  of  these  arrows,  takes 
nearly  two  days  to  die. 

The  veld  lore  of  the  Mosarwas  is  nothing  short  of  marvellous. 
They  are  unsurpassed  as  trackers,  equalled  by  none,  unless  it  be 
the  aborigine  of  Australia.  A  Mosarwa  will  read  from  a  spoor  in 
tlic  veld,  or  even  on  the  hard  sandstone,  where  it  is  unnotice- 
ablc  to  the  average  hunter,  what  kind  of  buck  has  passed, 
whether  going  to  or  returning  from  water,  whether  the  animal 
is  close  by,  its  intentions — wlicther  just  grazing  or  on  its  way  to 
another  district.  He  can  easily  determine  the  species  of  animal 
from  the  way  the  grass  has  been  nibbled.  In  short,  nothing  is 
concealed  from  his  keen  eyes,  so  inexhaustible  is  his  knowledge, 
or  instinct  foi-,  the  habits  of  the  game  and  birds  in  the  Kalahari. 
A  ^vounded  buck  never  escapes  him.  On  foot  they  will  run  dozen 
small  game,  gradually  tiring  out  the  animal.  With  crooked  fingers, 
wit'i  an  occasional  guttural  "click,"  they  follow  the  almost  in- 
visible spoor,  trotting  steadily  for  hours.  The  result  is  inevitable. 

They  know  of  every  pan  or  vlei  that   liolds  water  in  the 

255 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

region  they  frequent.  They  cover  almost  unheard-of  distances 
over  immense  stretches  of  waterless  desert.  Childbirth,  to  a 
Mosarwa  woman,  is  a  mere  bagatelle,  entailing  but  an  hour  or 
two's  delay  when  a  party  is  on  the  move.  I  must  not,  however, 
dwell  more  on  these  Sherlock  Holmeses  of  the  veld,  save  to  add 
that  it  was  a  party  of  these  bushmen  we  despatched  to  find  our 
missing  horse.  But  a  few  hours  had  elapsed  before  two  of  them 
returned  with  the  information  that  they  had  found  the  where- 
abouts of  the  strayed  mare  and  that  the  rest  of  their  party  was 
watching  by  the  horse.  It  had  strayed  some  twelve  miles — but 
what  is  twelve  miles  to  a  ]Mosarwa  ? 

As  there  was  little  game  by  the  vlei  at  which  we  were  camped 
we  bought  a  sheep  from  a  native,  who  was  taking  do^^Ti  some 
stock  to  Serowe  to  sell.  It  cost  us  fifteen  shillings,  being  one  of  the 
fat -tailed  type  of  sheep.  From  the  tail  alone  we  obtained  many 
pounds  of  excellent  dripping,  which  is  a  splendid  "stand-by" 
when  on  a  long  trek.  For  some  days,  when  game  was  scarce, 
bread  and  dripping  would  be  our  staple  diet. 

While  camped  here,  we  employed  part  of  the  time  in 
"  lunging  "  some  of  the  young  horses  to  break  them  in  a  little, 
as  it  was  essential  that  they  should  be  fairly  accustomed  to  being 
handled  before  we  reached  the  lion  veld.  After  a  wait  of  four 
days  our  momited  native  returned  with  the  guns.  We  thereupon 
struck  camp  and  prepared  to  trek  on  to  the  next  water.  We 
repacked  the  waggons,  taking  special  care  that  our  vaatjes 
(water-barrels)  were  full  of  water,  as  we  had  in  front  of  us  a  long 
"  thirst."  It  was  sixty  miles  to  the  wells  of  Lotlhakane,  where 
our  next  water  lay.  Twenty  miles  before  these  Avells  lies  the  pit 
of  Ditowane  ;  this  well,  however,  we  had  learnt  from  natives 
on  the  road  was  dry.  We  were  hoping  against  hope  that  the 
news  would  not  be  quite  true,  that  there  would  be  at  least  a 
little  water  in  the  well,  native  iiitoUigcncc  being  never  very 
reliable,  for  we  feared  that,  if  correct,  our  spans  of  oxen  would 
never  reach  water,  as  sixty  miles  of  heavy  sand  was  too  great 
a  distance  for  our  young  beasts  to  pull  such  heavily  laden 
waggons.  Willi  not  very  light  hearts  we  inspanned  and  started 

250 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

trekking.  Our  start  was  bad.  The  oxen  had  been  in  tlie  yokes  for 
only  an  hour  when  Brown,  who  had  gone  ahead  witli  the  horses 
with  tlic  intention  of  riding  right  through  to  water,  returned, 
informing  me  that  all  the  horses  had  bolted  and  scattered. 
It  seemed  tliat  one  of  the  packhorses  had  slipped  its  load,  and  a 
frying-pan  clattering  along  behind  its  heels  had  frightened  the 
whole  bunch  of  young  animals  out  of  their  wits  ;  they  had  bolted 
in  all  directions.  There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done  but  to  out- 
span  where  we  were,  and,  when  the  horses  were  collected,  to 
camp  for  the  night  ;  early  in  the  morning  we  must  send  the 
animals  back  to  water  before  starting  again.  This  we  did.  As  the 
follov.ing  day  was  dull,  we  inspanned  at  noon  after  the  oxen  had 
returned  from  water.  The  horses  again  went  on  ahead.  We  trekked 
hard  all  that  day  and  through  the  night  also,  only  outspanning 
for  short  intervals.  The  oxen  pulled  well  in  the  cool  of  the  night, 
but  towards  the  noon  of  the  next  day  they  became  very  leg- 
weary,  and  only  too  often  we  had  to  use  our  whips  and  sjamboks 
to  urge  on  the  tired  beasts.  Over  mile  after  mile  of  waterless 
veld  the  poor  animals  struggled,  pulling  their  heavy  loads. 
All  that  day  and  all  through  the  next  night  we  trekked,  save  for 
an  occasional  short  outspan  in  which  the  tired  cattle  were  almost 
too  done  up  to  cat.  Slowly  they  were  becoming  exhausted,  being 
young  and  unaccustomed  to  these  dreaded  "  thirsts."  If  the  well 
at  Ditawanc  held  no  water,  then  our  liope  of  reaching  the  water 
at  Lotlhakanc  was  but  slight.  Hour  after  hour  passed  with  the 
same  eternal  bush  and  scrub,  the  same  eternal  sand  ;  hour  after 
hour  heard  the  same  remorseless  cracking  of  the  long  whips,  the 
same  yells  and  curses  of  the  drivers,  as  the  exhausted  beasts 
time  and  again  dropped  in  their  yokes  panting  for  breath  and 
for  water.  Clouds  of  dust  clotted  their  parched  nostrils  and 
mouths  ;  tlic  heat  of  the  rising  sun  added  to  their  sufferings. 
But  it  was  ]io  time  for  ^jity — water  had  to  be  reached  ! 

Slioilly  alter  sunrise  on  the  thiid  day  wc  reached  Ditawanc 

Well.  To  oirr  joy  we  found  that  there  was  just  sullicieiit  water 

for  the  two  spans,  though  very  muddy.  The  well  was  half  choked 

up  through  an  ox  having  fallen  in.  We  outspanned  our  oxen 

R  257 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

warily  and  allowed  them  to  drink  in  couples.  More  than  one  span 
foolishly  unyoked  all  together  have  made  a  blind  stampede  for 
the  water,  resulting  in  one  or  two  falling  into  the  well  and  being 
killed.  One  thought  the  ])Oor  animals  would  never  stop  drinking, 
so  parched  with  dust  and  thii'st  were  tlicy.  They  had  been  in  the 
yokes  for  over  thirty  hours  without  water.  Had  there  not  been 
water  in  this  well,  half  our  spans  would  never  have  reached 
Lotlhakane.  Oxen  have  a  really  wonderful  2:)0wer  of  endurance. 
Seasoned  spans  are  at  times  able  to  go  without  water  for  as  long 
as  five  days,  though,  unless  every  oppoi'tunity  possible  is  given 
them  to  graze  when  the  dew  is  heaviest  on  the  grass,  the  chances 
are  that  they  will  succumb.  At  such  times  everything  depends 
on  the  driver  and  on  his  skill  in  husbanding,  by  judicious 
arrangement  of  the  treks,  the  strength  of  his  oxen. 

There  are  two  pits  at  Ditawane  :  one  belonging  to  the  Govern- 
ment, the  other  to  a  native.  The  foi-mer  is  nearly  always  dry. 
It  is  apparently  left  for  a  native  to  supply  the  requirements  of 
man  and  beast  at  Ditawane.  As  it  was  necessary  to  rest  our 
spans,  as  well  as  our  horses,  after  their  long  trek,  we  cleaned  out 
the  native  well.  Horses  are  more  fastidious  about  their  drinking 
water  than  cattle.  All  of  us,  white  men  and  natives,  buckled 
to,  and  after  three  hours  of  real  liard  work  shovelling  soil  and 
hauling  it  up  in  buckets,  hand  over  hand,  we  soon  had  a  fair 
supply  of  water  accumulating.  The  work  was  a  welcome  change 
from  the  rather  lazy  life  led  on  trek  in  a  veld  poorly  provided 
with  game. 

The  surroundings  of  the  Ditawane  wells  are  exceedingly 
picturesque.  Encircling  the  open  s]iaee.  wlieie  the  wells  arc  sunk, 
stand  large  shady  inopane  trec^.  Xuiiicious  gaily  coloured  little 
bii'ds  liop  round  tlie  edge  of  the  ^vel],  drinking  fj'om  the  pools 
whei'e  the  cattle  have  Ijcen  watered.  ]\Iy  sliglitcst  movement 
would  I'riglitcji  them  away,  only  to  return  when  all  was  quiet 
again.  I  spent  majiy  an  idle  moment  counting  the  different 
colours  of  these  little  eieatures.  watching  their  dainty  move- 
ments, whilst  the  sun  sank  slowly  behind  the  tj-ees.  Everything 
then  became  very  quiet  and  still.  As  1  sat  alone  by  the  edge  of  the 

25.S 


4  ^^rtFtn 


:.,  -^^'-.^ 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

well,  so  far  away  from  civilisation  and  the  neurotic  life  of  towns, 
a  feeling  of  peace  and  contentment  would  steal  over  me  lulling 
to  sleep  all  the  petty  ambitions  that  seem  to  loom  so  large  on 
one's  horizon  elsewhere.  I  would  sit  on  till  my  feathered  friends 
sped  away,  till  darkness  had  wrapped  the  silent  veld  in  its 
cloak,  wondering  whether  the  wells  by  the  cedars  of  Lebanon 
were  as  peaceful  as  the  wells  of  the  Kalahari. 

The  moon  was  full  during  these  nights  by  the  wells,  and  Avlicn 
it  rose  the  veld  was  as  light  as  day. 

One  evening,  when  the  moon  had  l^cen  up  for  a  cou])le  of 
hours,  Brown  and  I  took  our  guns  to  try  to  bag  some  guinca- 
fo"\vl  which  wci'c  roosting  in  the  trees  not  far  from  the  waggons. 
Try  as  hard  as  we  could,  move  as  quietly  as  wc  did,  we  were 
unable  to  get  a  shot  at  them.  The  clear  light  betrayed  our 
slightest  movement.  After  being  led  on  from  tree  to  ti-ee, 
we  at  last  gave  it  up  in  disgust,  and  started  to  I'ctirrn  to  the 
Avaggons.  In  returning,  I  must  co]ifess  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  Brown,  I  should  have  been  hopelessly  lost,  as  I  had  been  so 
intent  on  the  birds  in  the  trees  that  I  had  not  kept  my  bearings. 
Fortunately  my  companioii  was  not  the  tenderfoot  I  was. 

The  Kalahari  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  velds  in  which  to 
hunt.  It  is  as  flat  as  a  billiard-table  ;  every  tree  is  the  same  as  its 
fellow,  every  bush  the  same  as  another.  At  times  1  have  left  the 
waggons  and,  when  not  five  hundred  yards  off,  have  experienced 
no  little  difficulty  in  fmding  them  again.  One  gradually  acquires 
some  little  veld  lore  by  experience,  though  it  is  not  learnt  in  a 
day.  The  power  of  observation  develops  slowly.  One  learns, 
when  leaving  the  waggons  or  the  camj),  to  note  the  height  and 
the  angle  of  the  sun  and  the  direction  of  the  wind,  if  any.  The 
latter  is  a  most  important  point  on  a  dark  and  cloudy  night. 
The  easiest  Avay  to  do  this  is  by  observing  the  bend  of  the  grass 
oj-  leaves,  or  by  letting  a  stream  of  line  sand  slowly  flow  Jrom 
one's  hand.  It  is  not  long  either  before  you  begin  instinctively 
to  take  notice  of  landmarks,  such  as  ant-hills  or  dead  trees, 
which  stand  out  conspicuously  amidst  the  green  foliage.  Ant- 
hills in  the  Kalahari  are  excellent  landmarks,  if  you  take  the 

259 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

essential  precaution  of  looking  at  them  from  both  sides — i.e. 
when  you  approach  them  and  when  you  have  passed  by — 
otherwise,  they  lead  you  astray.  These  ant-hills  are  quite  a 
feature  of  the  Kalahari,  some  of  them  reaching  a  height  of 
twenty  to  thirty  feet.  In  the  veld  through  which  we  were 
trekking  we  could  obtain  but  little  help  from  the  subsoil  or 
from  the  nature  of  the  trees,  as  the  whole  country  round  was 
uniform  in  nearly  every  particular.  Even  the  natives — the 
Bechuaiia,  not  the  ]Mosarwa — frequently  lose  themselves, 
though  born  in  the  country.  Game  spoor  in  the  Kalahari  is 
also  most  difficult  to  follow.  Owing  to  the  sandy  soil  it  is  very 
hard  to  determine  tlie  age  of  the  spoor,  which  is  never  clearly 
cut,  often  deadened  and  partly  obliterated  by  the  wind. 

Having  given  up  our  attempt  after  guinea-fowl,  we  returned 
to  the  camp  and  ate  a  substantial  supper  of  bread  and  dripping. 

We  left  Ditav/ane  the  following  afternoon  and  trekked  for 
the  Lotlhakane  Well ;  the  horses,  as  before,  went  ahead  with 
Brown  in  cliarge.  Two  treks  brought  us  to  a  well-known  land- 
inark  in  the  veld  around  —  the  knoppidoorn  trees,  tall  and 
upright,  and  grouped  together  just  alongside  the  waggon  road. 
They  lie  half-way  between  the  two  waters.  We  stopped  the  best 
part  of  the  night  at  this  outspan  spot  till  dawn  broke  ;  wc  then 
continued  our  trek.  Three  long  treks  brought  us  hi  sight  of  the 
large  Jcameeldoorn  trees  of  Lotlhakane  valley.  When  entering  the 
valley,  the  heavy  sand  gave  place  to  a  hard  road,  which  was 
much  aj)prcciated  by  the  oxen.  Brown  met  us  a  mile  or  two  away 
bringing  out  my  horse  with  him,  and  we  enjoyed  together  a 
lovely  gallop  over  the  hard  stretch  of  veld  to  the  camp,  the 
gleaming  lights  of  which  shone  through  the  trees.  The  night 
was  cold,  but  the  air  was  delicious.  A  thin  coating  of  ice  covered 
the  water  in  our  buckets  in  the  jnorinng,  but  under  two  or  thiec 
heavy  Ijlankets  the  cold  never  affected  our  sleep  in  the  o])cn  air. 
\Vc  were  joined  that  night  by  a  young  trader  who  was  riding  up 
to  the  lake  on  hor^-cbaek — by  no  means  a  light  task.  There  was 
plenty  of  food,  as  Bro\' :).  whilst  waiting  for  the  waggons,  had 
spent  his  time  in  sJiooLing  a  young  duyker  and  a  eou})]e  of  fat 

260 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

guinea-fowl.  Venison  steaks,  with  peach  jam  as  a  siil)stitiite  for 
red-currant  jell}',  and  roast  guinea-fowl,  with  "  sourdough  " 
l)rcad,  made  a  feast  fit  for  the  gods.  We  sat  by  the  hre,  shielded 
from  the  wind  by  a  scherm  (a  rude  enclosure  made  of  bush), 
yarning  and  smoking  till  late,  the  light  of  the  dying  fire  being 
paled  by  the  I'ays  of  the  rising  moon.  It  is  easy- — only  too  easy 
alas  !  for  my  peace  of  mind — to  recall  whilst  penning  these  lines 
the  picturesque  appearance  of  our  camp  that  night  by  the  well 
at  Lotlhakane  :  the  bright  canopy  of  the  heavens  above  our 
]30wer,  the  flickering  light  of  the  camp  fire,  the  still  line  of  horses 
picketed  between  the  two  waggons,  the  tents  of  which  shone 
white  in  the  rays  of  the  moon ;  the  kraal  close  by  sheltering  our 
weary  spans  lying  deep  in  slumber ;  and  the  little  camp  fires  of 
the  natives  gleaming  through  the  wheels  of  the  waggons.  It  all 
comes  back  to  me  so  vividly !  Those  nights  on  the  African  veld 
seem  but  as  yesterday.  It  is  impossible  to  forget  the  veld. 

We  stayed  at  the  well  for  three  days  in  order  to  rest  our  oxen 
and  horses,  more  particularly  the  latter,  as  some  of  them  Avere 
showing  ill  effects  from  the  hard  trekking.  Three  of  them  had 
already  prematurely  dropped  foals,  and  were,  in  consequence, 
in  poo''  condition.  Oh  the  folly  of  bringing  tliose  young  mares, 
all  in  foal,  on  such  a  journey  !  Each  one  of  them — -without  an 
exception — threw  her  foal  prematurely  during  the  journey  up 
to  the  Lake ;  and  w^as  it  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing  that,  apart 
from  the  hardships  of  the  trek,  they  had  different  grass  to  graze 
on  daily  ? 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  we  packed  our  waggons, 
inspanned  and  started  to  trek  towards  the  next  water,  many 
inilcs  ahead.  My  information  as  to  the  distance  to  this  water 
was  vague,  but  I  was  informed  by  Brown  that  by  noon  of  the 
next  day  we  should  reacli  water.  Acting  on  this  piece  of  informa- 
tion, I  gave  the  order  at  sundown  that  the  liorses  should  be 
picketed  for  the  night,  little  dreaming  what  a  foolish  thing  I  was 
doing  in  giving  such  an  order  and  how  grossly  I  was  mis- 
informed. Had  I  had  even  a  suspicion  that  water  might  not  be 
reached  by  noon  of  the  next  day  I  should  have  ridden  through  a 

261 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

good  ])art  of  tlie  niglit,  so  as  to  avoid  letting  tlic  horses  go  witli- 
oiit  water  longer  than  t^vel^'e  hours,  as  these  am'nials  soon  get 
distressed  when  parehed  with  thirst.  As  it  was,  no  misgivings 
crept  into  my  mind.  I  knew  full  well  that  iny  companion  had 
travelled  this  road  more  than  once  ;  and,  moreover,  he  con- 
fii'ined  my  order. 

I  had  not  then  learnt  how  "  native  "  was  his  mind,  and  how, 
consequently,  unreliable  was  his  estimation  of  distance,  a  thing 
no  native  mind  seems  to  be  able  to  grasp.  We  saddled  up  at  smi- 
risc,  overtaking  oui-  waggons  which  had  i)assed  us  in  the  night. 
On  my  arrival  I  found  most  of  the  cattle  had  strayed  in  the  veld 
—a  fact  not  to  be  nuieh  surprised  at,  as  no  white  man  had  been 
there.  Leaving  instructions  to  inspan  directly  the  missing  cattle 
were  found,  we  rode  on,  driving  the  little  mob  of  horses  ahead 
of  us.  \Tc  rode  steadily  through  that  day  till  the  sun  sank  ; 
but  not  a  drop  of  water  could  we  find  in  the  veld.  Picketing  the 
thirsty  and  tired  horses  for  the  night,  we  saddled  up  again  early 
in  the  morning  and  pushed  on  hard  till  the  salt  vlei  of  Chukutsa, 
one  of  the  smaller  ^Makarikari  salt  ]jans,  gleamed  througli  the 
trees.  Several  of  the  horses  were  ])y  now  very  distressed,  two 
more  of  them  during  the  night  having  di'opped  their  foals.  The 
salt  pan  looked  very  picturesque  from  the  liigh  ground,  which 
was  covered  with  a  thick  forest  of  mopanc  trees.  I  fear,  howe\'er, 
I  Avas  then  in  no  mood  to  a])preciate  the  beaut}'  of  the  scene, 
disgusted  as  I  was  with  the  imrelia1)ility  of  my  transport-rider's 
information  and  woi'i'ied  about  the  condition  of  the  horses.  As 
I  liad  anticipated,  on  nearing  the  salt  vlci  it  was  more  than  wc 
could  do  to  prevent  the  thirsty  and  pai'ched  animals  stampeding 
to  drink  the  bi'ackisli  water,  which  meant,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  certain  (k>ath.  Despite  all  oiu'  eli'orts  the  horses  rushed  to 
drink,  though  I  had  half  a  hope  that  their  instinct  might  warn 
them  not  to  after  they  had  once  taxied  the  ])i'aekish  water.  Un- 
fortimately  theii'  thirst  conquei'ed  iustinet,  and  it  Avas  only  by 
di]it  o)'  Using  our  sjamboks  J'j'eely  across  tlieii' Hanks  that  we  could 
get  the  yoimg  horses  a\vay  fi'om  the  \vater,  E\'en  the  gelding  I 
was   riding — an  old  limiting  horse  who   should   liave  known 

262 


TREKKING  THE  KALAHARI  DESERT 

better — tried  anxiously  to  drink,  so  thirsty  was  he.  Pushing 
steadily  on,  we  reached  IMachanin  Pan — a  rain-water  vlei — by 
noon.  Here  we  off-saddled  and  allowed  the  horses  to  get  a 
refreshing  drink  at  last.  The  distance  my  ti'ansport-rider  had 
estimated  as  an  eight-hour  ride  took  us  nearly  twice  as  long. 
We  had  covered  not  far  short  of  fifty  miles  from  Lotlhakane,  the 
horses  having  been  without  water  for  nearly  forty-eight  hours. 

After  a  long  wait  the  waggons  arrived.  The  oxen  also  were  in 
a  very  distressed  condition,  having  been  excessively  delayed  in 
the  "thirst  "  owing  to  the  carelessness  of  the  driver  and  the 
cattle-watcher.  One  ox  had  fallen  in  the  yoke  and  had  had  to 
be  released,  being  utterly  worn  out.  This  meant  the  reduction 
of  the  span  by  two  oxen,  which  consequently  had  thrown  extra 
work  on  the  rest.  Fortunately  at  this  vlei  we  met  a  native  in 
charge  of  a  mob  of  cattle  on  their  way  to  Serowe,  from  which  I 
selected  the  two  best  oxen,  and  so  made  up  a  full  span  again. 

By  this  pan  we  shot  our  first  duck ;  and  it  proved  excellent 
eating.  We  aJso  caught  sight  of  some  pauw,  but  they  were  too 
far  out  of  I'ange.  After  a  rest  of  a  day  we  inspanned  and  trekked 
on.  We  were  now  almost  out  of  the  desert,  the  sandy  soil  giving 
place  to  more  hard  and  stony  ground.  Much  of  the  veld  here 
was  bare  and  flat,  with  here  and  there  a  few  solitary  palms — a 
species  of  the  Borassus  palm.  In  the  distance  we  noticed  thick 
smoke,  which,  we  learnt,  came  from  the  reeds  of  the  River 
Botletle,  which  had  been  fired  by  the  natives  in  the  vicinity. 
Whilst  trekking  over  these  bare  flats,  which  are  in  many  cases 
the  beds  of  dry  salt  pans,  I  noticed  mirages  in  the  distance- — and 
particularly  during  the  heat  of  midday.  The  name  Makarikari 
means  mij'agc. 

At  sundown  on  1st  July  we  reached  ]\Iopipi  Tree  stadt,  or 
"  Barker's  Store,*'  as  it  is  more  popularly  known  in  the  Pro- 
tectorate. It  had  taken  us  twenty-six  days  to  cross  the  stretch 
of  desert  that  lies  between  Khama's  capital  and  Mopipi.  It  is 
hci'e  one  iii'st  strikes  the  River  Botletle. 


263 


CHAPTER    VII 

ALONG   THE   BANKS    OF   THE   BOTLETLE 

MOPIPI  was  a  rather  desolate-looking  place.  It  pos- 
sessed one  trading  store,  which  was  run  by  the  only 
white  man  living  in  the  stadt.  Jn  front  of  the  store 
stood  the  ti'ce  from  which  it  took  its  name.  The  trader  was 
a  most  interesting  and  hospitable  fellow,  with,  however,  the 
same  weakness  as  that  of  my  companion.  Briefly,  he  was  a  superb 
liar  !  The  peculiar  part  of  it  all  was  that  neither  of  them  was 
aware  of  the  beam  in  his  own  eye,  though  fully  alive  to  the  mote 
in  the  other's.  At  different  times  each  took  me  aside  to  warn  me 
to  accept  CU771  grano  the  yarns  of  the  other — a  truly  humoi'ous 
situation  !  It  was  quite  a  pleasant  comedy,  though  at  times  I 
must  confess  to  feeling  rather  insulted  when  asked  to  swallow 
some  of  the  atrocious  stories  with  which  they  would  regale  me. 
Killing  six  lions  before  breakfast  and  shooting  duck  on  a  vlei 
at  five  hundred  yards  with  a  rifle,  the  duck  eventually  sinking 
from  the  weight  of  the  lead,  were  but  small  feats  for  Mopipi's 
trader. 

The  chief  mainstay  of  this  store  was  buying  cattle  and  skins 
from  the  natives  in  exchange  for  cash  and  goods  ;  the  latter  con- 
sisted of  Kafir  "  truck,"  such  as  blankets,  beads,  limbo  (cotton 
cloth),  kriives,  pots  and  pans,  etc.  The  skins  and  cattle  would  be 
sent  down  periodically  to  Sei'owefor  sale.  Native  trading  to-day, 
like  most  other  things  in  South  Afi'iea,  is  no  longer  the  ])!'(>li table 
occupation  it  was  some  years  back.  In  Livingstone's  time  Kalir 
trading  was  a  little  gold  mine  ;  to-day  it  is  a  precarious  liviiig. 
Competition  is  too  keen,  and  the  average  native  is  too  civilised 
for  the  trader  to  inake  big  jirofits. 

As  there  was  but  poor  grazijig  by  Mopipi  we  sent  the  hoj'ses 

264 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

and  oxen  to  a  small  native  village  a  mile  or  two  farther  on,  where 
the  grass  was  plentiful  and  richer,  I  decided  here  to  make 
Avholesalc  changes  amongst  my  waggon  natives,  as  some  of  them 
had  been  giving  trouble  continuously,  first  with  one  thing  then 
another.  Particularly  was  this  the  case  by  the  wells  in  the  desert, 
where  the  Damaras  would  quarrel  with  the  Bechuanas,  each 
party  refusing  to  assist  the  other  in  watering  their  span.  The 
Damaras  Averc  nearly  always  the  aggressors.  I  sacked  the 
driver  of  one  waggon  ;  he  was  hopelessly  incompetent  and  had 
been  hired  at  a  most  ridiculous  wage  by  the  recruiter,  who 
himself  knew  as  little  about  driving  a  span  of  oxen  as  did  the 
driver  in  question.  In  his  place  I  hired  a  competent  Makalaka 
native  at  half  the  wage.  I  further  dispensed  with  two  other 
loafing  Damaras.  For  a  time  the  remainder  became  a  little  more 
tractable,  but  the  foolishly  lenient  treatment  they  had  received 
formerly  at  the  hands  of  Morgan  caused  great  trouble.  I  never 
had  to  deal  with  such  a  spoilt  crowd  of  natives  in  all  my  life. 
They  would  have  been  soon  knocked  into  shape  by  a  month  or 
two  of  hard  work  in  the  Rand  mines. 

From  iMopipi  there  are  two  waggon  roads  to  Rhakops,  the 
half-way  stadt  between  Lake  Ngami  and  Serowe  :  one  across  the 
rivei-,  along  the  north  bank  of  the  Botlctle,  and  the  other  round 
the  bend  of  the  river  on  its  south  side.  The  latter  route  is  twice 
the  distance,  as  the  Botletle  here  makes  a  large  bend.  The 
fullness  of  the  river,  however,  prevented  our  fording  it  with  our 
w^aggons  and  live-stock  ;  so  we  were  compelled  to  take  the  longer 
road.  After  a  couple  of  days  at  ^lopipi  we  bade  farewell  to 
tlie  cheerful,  if  not  veracious,  trader  and  trekked  round  the 
bend  of  the  Botletle.  We  passed  by  many  small  villages,  each 
ruled  ])y  a  headman  placed  in  authority  there  by  Chief  Kliama. 
Three  treks  brought  us  to  a  small  village  in  the  Kedia  district. 
On  our  road  we  ran  across  a  young  python,  about  eight  feet  in 
length,  which  the  natives  despatched  with  sticks  and,  to  my 
surprise,  afterA\'ards  ate. 

The  ox  which  had  been  overworked  in  the  Kalahari  was  daily 
bceoinijig  weaker,  notwithstanding  that  it  was  never  inspanned. 

265 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

The  possibility  tliat  the  animal  might  be  infected  with  lung- 
sickncss  occurred  to  us ;  so  I  decided  to  ride  ahead  with  a 
native  to  the  police  camp  at  Rhakops  to  report  the  fact  of  the 
ox  l:)eing  sick.  Lung-sickness — a  form  of  ])]euro-pneumonia — 
is  one  of  the  many  deadly  cattle  diseases  with  wliich  Africa  has 
to  contend  ;  and  in  Eechuanaland  the  disease  was  then  rife. 

Having  this  in  mind,  we  were  a  little  anxious  about  our  sick 
ox.  If  our  suspicions  were  justified  there  would  be  trouble 
and  delay  ahead  of  us,  for  all  our  spans  would  have  to  be 
quarantined. 

Here  again,  but  for  the  last  time,  I  relied  on  my  companion's 
estimate  of  distances.  He  informed  me  that  it  was  only  a  four 
hours'  ]'ide  on  horseback  from  the  place  where  we  were  out- 
spanned  to  the  police  camp  at  Rhakops.  Relying  on  this 
info]-mation,  I  saddled  up  at  sunrise  and  calculated  that  noon 
would  see  the  native  and  myself  near  our  destination's  end. 
I  took  neither  food  nor  blankets  with  me,  nor  beyond  a  hasty 
cup  of  coffee  did  I  worry  about  any  morning  meal,  as  I  wanted 
to  make  the  most  of  the  cool  part  of  the  morning.  To  be  brief, 
I  will  say  tliat  I  was  in  the  saddle  over  fourteen  hours  and 
covered  fifty  miles  and  more  before  I  j-eached  the  stadt  of 
Rhakops.  The  ordinary  distance  was  between  tliirty  to  forty 
miles  and  was  greatly  increased  by  the  many  detours  necessary 
on  account  of  the  river  lacing  in  flood. 

The  country  through  which  we  rode  was  very  bare  and  flat, 
with  small  villages  and  cattle-posts  dotted  here  and  there.  I 
espied  one  or  two  herds  of  springbok,  though  always  too  far  out 
of  I'angc  to  get  in  a  shot,  and  tliere  was  ])ractieal]y  no  cover  of 
which  to  avail  oneself  to  approach  within  range.  Great  stretches 
of  the  country,  onh'  a  little  higher  than  the  level  of  the  river, 
were  Hooded  and  tlie  water  and  tlie  swampy  ground  proved 
very  tiriiig  to  the  horses.  In  some  ])arts  tlie  \\'ater  readied  our 
saddle-girths.  ^Ve  off-saddled  for  a  e()U])le  of  hours  dui'ing  the 
heat  of  the  day,  Icnee-haltering  our  hoi'ses  and  allowing  them  to 
graze,  antl  were  fortunate  in  olitaining  some  calabash  or  sour 
lailk  from   a   eattle-post   in   the   neighbourhood.   This   drink, 

200 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

besides  being  most  sustaining,  is  also  most  refreslilng.  Sunset 
found  us  still  some  miles  away  from  the  stadt  but  fortunately 
near  to  a  cattle-post,  whither  we  rode,  deciding  to  camp  there 
for  the  night.  My  native,  a  Motawana,  had  no  little  difficulty 
in  making  himself  understood  by  the  Bahurutsi  natives  in 
charge  of  the  cattle-post.  They  discovered,  however,  that  we 
wanted  food.  We  bought  a  sheep  and  it  was  not  long  before  one 
was  killed,  skinned,  and  its  liver  frying  on  the  embers  of  the  fire. 
I  "was  ravenously  hungry,  and  soon  but  very  little  remained  of 
that  sheep's  liver,  which  I  washed  down  with  goat's  milk. 
After  a  smoke  I  lay  down  by  the  fire  with  the  intention  of  sleep- 
ing, but  found  it  to  be  almost  impossible  owing  to  the  swarms 
of  mosquitoes.  My  saddle  also  was  not  as  comfortable  a  pillow 
as  it  might  have  been,  and  without  any  blankets  I  was  very 
cold ;  moreover,  the  mosquitoes,  attracted  by  the  flooded  lands, 
were  numerous  so  I  was  not  sorry  when  dawn  broke. 

After  the  horses  had  had  a  short  graze  we  saddled  up  and 
resumed  our  ride.  I  left  instructions  with  the  natives  at  the 
post  that  the  remainder  of  the  sheep  was  to  be  handed  to  the 
waggons  ^vhen  they  should  arrive,  whereon  the  whiteman  in 
cliarge  would  pay  them  the  sum  of  five  shillings — the  price  I 
had  agreed  on  after  much  haggling  overnight. 

On  resuming  our  ride  we  found  the  usual  waggon  route  was 
completely  under  water,  and  it  was  only  after  long  detours  and 
much  riding  through  heavy  swamps  that  the  trees  near  Rhakops 
showed  in  sight.  The  veld  in  places  along  the  river  was  full  of 
holes — veritable  death-traps  for  horses.  In  fact,  some  parts  of 
the  ground  were  so  dangerous  that  we  were  compelled  to  lead 
oui'  hoi'ses.  ,Most  of  the  holes  were  made  by  the  ant-bear,  which 
burrows  for  great  distances.  We  also  came  on  old  game-pits, 
which  were  used  by  the  natives  for  catching  game  before  the 
advent  of  the  rifle.  These  old  pits,  though  now  partly  filled  up, 
are  death-traps  for  the  cantering  horse,  owing  to  the  long  grass 
which  more  or  less  conceals  them  from  the  eye.  They  measure, 
roughly,  twelve  feet  by  six  feet,  with  a  depth  of  twelve  feet  or 
more.  After  tliey  were  dug  by  the  nati^■es  thc\'  were  artfully 

2G7 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

covered  witli  sticks,  leaves,  and  light  soil,  giving  the  surface  the 
appearance  of  solid  ground.  A  crescent-shaped  body  of  men 
would  then  di'i ve  the  game  with  deafening  and  ear-splitting  yells 
towards  the  narrow  outlet,  where  the  game-pits  had  been  dug. 
The  wi'etehed,  panic-stricken  animals — large-horned  buck  of 
all  descriptions — would  fall  struggling  into  these  pits,  and  a 
wholesale  slaughter  would  ensue.  It  is  not  so  many  years  ago 
that  this  unsportsmanlike  method  of  hunting  was  practised  by 
the  natives  in  this  region. 

By  noo]i  we  arrived  at  the  police  camp,  where  I  met  the 
X.C.O.  of  the  outpost.  With  usual  veld  hospitality  I  was 
welcomed  with  a  good  meal,  to  which  I  did  full  justice.  After- 
wards the  cheery  corporal  and  I  sat  down  to  a  long  chat ;  and 
indeed  I  was  ]iot  at  all  sorry  to  stretch  my  legs  mider  a  table 
after  so  many  hours  in  the  saddle.  The  X.C.O.,  on  hearing  my 
report  about  the  sick  ox,  sent  out  one  of  his  Basuto  troopers,  who, 
after  inspecting  the  animal,  fortunately  confirmed  our  opinion 
— that  the  ox  had  sickened  from  overstrain.  The  animal  was 
dead  by  tlie  time  the  trooper  reached  it. 

Just  before  sundown  the  coj-poral  and  I  strolled  down  to  the 
river,  about  a  mile  away  from  the  camp.  The  scenery  of  the 
Botletle  here  was  really  too  lovely  for  words.  I  I'cmained  for 
minutes  spellbound  at  the  beautiful  scene  presented  by  the 
river  flowiiig  by  us.  The  sight  of  the  luxuriant  foliage  that  shaded 
the  ])anks  of  the  fast-flowing  waters,  of  the  tall  green  reeds  bend- 
ing under  the  faint  breeze  that  swept  over  them,  of  the  deep 
blending  tints  of  gold  in  the  shady  trees  in  tlie  .sun"s  dying  rays, 
was  inorc  tlian  welcome  after  the  barj-en  aiid  inhospitai^le 
stretches  of  dc:scrt  through  which  we  had  been  trekking  for  so 
many  days.  The  sun  liad  long  set  before  my  companion  could  drag 
me  a\va\'  back  to  the  camp,  where  our  meal,  he  said,  was  getting 
cold.  On  our  way  we  skirted  the  village,  which  ^vas  in  ncai'ly  every 
respect  similar  to  that  of  Serowe,  only  smaller.  It  is  the  second 
stadt  of  im])ortanee,  as  well  as  size,  in  the  Bamangwato  icserve. 
On  the  morning  following  my  arrival,  whilst  engaged  in  the 
exciting  task  of  playing  a  game  of  ci'ib  with  the  corporal,  I 

2GS 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

received  a  note  from  Brown  with  the  unwelcome  news  that  he 
had  been  compelled  to  outspan  two  or  three  miles  away,  owing  to 
the  fact  that  many  of  the  horses  were  very  sick  and  two  of  them 
already  dead.  This  piece  of  information  put  a  prompt  stop 
to  the  game  of  cribbage  and  caused  me  to  saddle  up  and  ride 
off  at  once  towards  the  waggons.  I  found  Brown's  information 
was — this  time — only  too  correct  !  Seven  of  the  horses  were 
purging  distressingly ;  and  we  had  no  colic  mixture  on  the 
waggons.  We  concocted  a  weird  mixture  out  of  linseed  oil, 
chlorodyne  and  painkiller.  With  this  we  drenched  the  sick 
animals,  in  some  cases  with  favourable  results.  To  one  horse 
that  was  nearly  dead  and  in  great  pain  I  gave  two  bottles  of 
chlorodyne.  The  horse  died  ;  whether  from  the  chlorodyne  or 
from  the  sickness  I  did  not  know  !  On  opening  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  animals  it  was  easily  seen  that  the  alkaline  water  of 
Chukutsa  pan  was  responsible  for  their  death,  the  intestines 
being  highly  inflamed.  Out  of  the  four  that  died  three  had 
thrown  their  foals  in  that  stretch  of  thirst  in  which  I  had  so 
unfortunately  delayed  them.  In  the  case  of  the  others  we 
managed  to  help  Nature  in  healing  the  acute  inflammation  in 
the  bowels  by  dint  of  drenches  of  oil  and  thin  Boer  meal.  At 
this  juncture  news  reached  me  that  my  brother  was  within  a 
few  miles  of  us  with  the  other  Avaggon  and  the  remaining  six 
horses.  We  consequently  sent  a  mounted  runner  off  urging  him 
to  hurry  on  and  join  us,  as  we  hoped  that  he  might  have  some 
colic  mixtm'e  on  his  waggon.  He  arrived  the  same  evening,  having 
been  on  trek  only  twenty  days,  since  his  waggon  was  lighter  than 
ours  and  his  live-stock  less.  But  he  had  no  colic  mixtuj-e  !  The 
fact  that  our  expedition  had  thirty  hoi'ses  and  not  one  bottle  of 
horse  medicine  reflected  little  credit  on  any  of  us.  We  managed 
by  continual  drenches  to  save  the  other  sick  horses,  and  as  ^ye 
had  to  await  the  arrival  of  our  leader,  whose  to-morrow  was  as 
reliable  as  the  Chilians'  manana,  we  decided  to  find  a  good  spot 
near  tlie  river  "where  the  grazing  was  better  than  that  afforded 
by  our  present  outspan,  in  order  to  give  the  live-stock  a  chance 
of  picking  up.  AVe  were  now  in  lion  veld  ;  but  owing  to  our 

269 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

proximity  to  a  lai-ge  native  stadt  we  did  not  anticipate  any 
trouble  from  these  marauders.  However,  when  we  had  selected 
tlie  s])ot  for  our  new  camp,  we  drew  up  our  waggons  in  the 
form  of  a  laager,  enclosing  the  kraals  of  ovu-  live-stock.  Our 
pai'ty  now  consisted  of  us  three  ^vhite  men,  with  three  waggons  ; 
the  respective  di'ivers,  vooi-Ioo])e!'s  and  cattle-watchers  ;  four 
horse-boys,  and  a  cou])lc  of  cook-ljoys  ;  and  our  live-stock 
numbered  thi'ce  span  of  oxen  (fifty-four  head)  and  twenty-five 
horses. 

We  now  enjoyed  a  lazy  period  whilst  waiting  for  our  erratic 
leader,  wlio  was  re])ortcd  to  be  on  his  way  to  the  Victoria  Falls, 
and  passed  our  time  in  occasional  gallo])s  ovci-  the  flats  to  the 
police  cam]).  Avhcre  we  would  yarn  and  l^lay  cai'ds  with  the 
X.C.O.  Now  and  thcii  we  went  fishing  (I  never  caught  an\-thing), 
and  fishing  generally  meant  lying  lazily  along  the  banks  of  the 
I'ivcr  gazing  at  the  lovely  scenery.  We  would  also  go  out  for 
an  occasional  shoot  ;  we  generally  secured  duck,  which  was 
plentiful  on  the  flooded  lands  alojig  the-  river  bank.  It  was  no 
hard  task  to  bag  as  many  as  fi\'e  in  one  shot.  The  mosquitoes 
wei'c  becoming  x'ci'y  trouf)lesome  at  night,  owing  to  the  large 
and  daily  increasing  stretches  of  flooded  lands  close  by, 
and  so  we  had  moscpiito  nets  I'iggcd  up  I'ound  our  beds  b}' 
the   fii-e. 

This  ])eriod  (^f  inactivity  natui'all}-  stai'ted  trouble  Avith  our 
Damaicis,  Avho  wanted  constantly  to  A'isit  the  neighbouring  stadt 
t(j  iiuhilge  in  Kafir  Ixer  '"  drimks."  Xeither  my  bi'other  nor  I 
had  a!)y  intc-ntion  of  allowing  them  tc)  do  this  :  eoiisC'(|uently  we 
ai-ranged  ^\■itll  the  ■jtoliee  eoipoi'al  t(^  fo]'l)id  any  of  oni'  Damai'as 
to  entc-r  the  \'illage.  or  an\'  native  thei'e  to  su])ply  them  Avith 
li([uor.  'fliis  ])i'o]iibi1ion  I'aised  great  di^eoiitent.  as  we  ex])ected  ; 
and  we  were  daily  treated  to  the  usual  story  :  Morgan  allowed 
tlieni  io  do  this  and  allowed  them  to  do  that.  It  ^^'orried  u-^  not 
a  jot.  thong!)  troubles  and  gmnnbling  \veut  ('n.  lii'st  (j\'er  one 
thijig  and  then  another,  tih  one  felt  like  taking  a  sjambf^k  and 
laying  il  w^ll  aero-s  llieij'  backs.  In  a  nati\x-  protectoi'ate, 
howewr,  tlu  uali\'e  is  the  tO]j  dog  and  launss  it.  A  thrashing  to 

J/O 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

an  insolent  nigger  means  a  five-pound  fine,  which  is  hardly  good 
enough. 

Whilst  encamped  near  Rhako])s,  the  headman  of  the  stadt 
died  naturally  creating  some  little  stir  in  the  uneventful  life 
of  the  natives.  The  preparation  of  the  coffin  was  a  curious  sight. 
The  stadt's  coffin-makers  obtained  all  the  empty  packing-cases 
and  odd  pieces  of  wood  they  could  beg  or  steal,  and  by  dint  of 
much  sawing  and  hammering  a  crude  coffin  was  put  together, 
which  caused  the  spectators  great  satisfaction  and  the  under- 
takers no  little  ])ride.  The  fact  that  the  words  "  In  transit  to 
Delagoa  Bay — keep  in  a  cool  place  "  were  printed  in  bold  letters 
on  one  side  worried  nobody  in  the  least.  He  was  buried  at  the 
dead  of  night  in  his  cattle  kraal,  according  to  native  custom, 
and  his  coffin  was  followed  by  a  motley  crowd  of  wives  and  slaves, 
each  of  whom  vied  with  the  others  in  the  expression  of  intense 
grief  by  giving  vent  to  the  most  diabolical  noises.  The  grotesque 
coffin,  supported  on  poles,  was  carried  to  the  kraal  by  eight 
bearers  ;  Christian  hynms  in  the  Sechuana  tongue  were  sung 
regardless  of  time  and  key,  and  after  the  burial  mounted 
men  were  despatched  to  Chief  Khama  to  announce  the 
death. 

Days  and  weeks  passed,  but  still  no  news  of  our  eccentric 
leader  reached  us,  beyond  some  startling  yarns  which  we  could 
not  quite  credit,  although  by  this  time  we  were  prepared  to 
believe  almost  anything  as  regards  his  doings.  As  the  N.C.O.  had 
to  make  a  trip  to  Scrowc  on  Government  bvisiness  my  brother 
decided  to  accompany  liim  and  ascertain  the  real  position  of 
affairs.  He  left  us  on  the  27th  July,  and  we  inspanned  our  waggons 
and  trekked  a  little  fartlier  up  the  river,  where  the  grazing  was 
better,  lirown  and  I  made  one  or  two  trips  over  the  flats  after 
springbok,  l)ut  we  met  with  little  success,  foj-,  although  we 
adopted  the  usual  method  of  riding  round  and  slowly  encircling 
the  herd,  the  chance  to  get  within  range  was  small,  since  there 
Avas  no  cover  at  all  to  help  us.  Once  or  twice  under  the  cover  of 
our  cattle  we  got  within  range  and  Brown  and  one  of  the  natives 
each  bagged  a  buck,  but  J  only  scored  misses.  To  judge  distances 

271 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

on  these  flats  is  no  easy  task  and  is  only  acquired  by  long 
experience.  I  was  reminded  of  the  conversation  in  "Jock  of 
the  Bushveld  "  : 

"  '  What'ud  you  put  up  for  that  stump  ?  ' 

"  I  looked  hard  and  answered  confidently :  '  Two  hundred  I ' 

"  '  Step  it  !  '  was  the  reply.  I  paced  the  distance  ;  it  was 
eighty-two  yards. 

"  It  was  very  bewildering  ;  but  lie  helped  me  out  a  bit  with, 
'  Bush  telescopes,  sonny  !  ' 

"  '  You  mean  it  magnifies  them  ?  '  I  asked  in  suiprise. 

"  '  Xo  !  Magnifies  the  distance,  like  lookin'  down  an  avenue  ! 
Gun  barr'l  looks  a  mile  long  when  you  put  yer  eye  to  it  !  Open 
fiats  bring  'em  closer  ;  and  'cross  water  or  a  gully  seems  like  you 
kin  put  yer  hand  on  'em  !  '  " 

We  used  to  take  a  ride  over  these  flats  in  the  cool  of  the  after- 
noon, if  we  were  not  wading  up  to  our  knees  in  the  swamps  after 
the  wary  duck.  We  also  used  to  take  a  morning  stroll  to  the  river 
for  a  wash.  The  fear  of  crocodiles  prevented  us  from  getting  a 
swim,  so  we  had  to  content  ou/-selves  with  pouring  pails  of 
water  over  our  dusty  bodies.  The  swarms  of  mosquitoes  in  the 
evening  were  the  only  serious  trouble  and  we  started  taking 
nightly  doses  of  quinine  to  ward  off  fever.  It  is  rather  peculiar 
that  one  seeii^s  <i'ar  more  susceptible  to  malaria  when  not  on 
trek.  The  attacks  generally  come  during  long  outspans.  I  sup])0se 
the  exercise  helps  on  trek.  Snakes  were  very  plentiful  on  these 
flats,  especially  the  mamba,  one  of  the  most  deadly  in  Africa. 
Its  ])itc  is  fatal  within  a  few  hours  and  its  rate  of  progression 
is  so  speedy  that  at  times  only  a  fast  horse  can  get  clear  of  it 
in  pursuit  ! 

Whilst  camping  here  a  waggon  with  a  team  of  donlceys.  owned 
by  a  party  of  Dutchmen,  arrived  down  from  the  I>ake,  having 
ti-ekked  right  through  from  Damarahmd.  They  told  us  tliat  the 
13otletIc  was  very  full  and  that  they  had  lost  two  donkeys  while 
fording  the  river  near  the  Lake;  in  fact,  they  said,  most  of  the 
waggons  were  trekking  right  round,  to  avoid  fording  the 
swollen  river. 

272 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

Our  food  for  the  natives  was  fast  giving  out  through  this 
almost  interminable  wait,  so  I  was  compelled  to  send  one 
waggon  back  to  the  store  at  Mopipi  to  obtain  more  grain,  as 
the  store  at  Rhakops  had  none.  The  grazing  again  becoming 
exhausted,  we  moved  our  camp  still  farther  along  the  river, 
this  time  near  to  a  large  cattle-post  where  there  was  also  a  more 
plentiful  supply  of  timber  for  our  fires.  Whilst  trekking  we 
passed  a  small  stadt — Khukwe  Post — where  Sebetwana,  the 
famous  Basuto  chief,  crossed  the  Botletle  some  sixty  years 
back  on  one  of  his  marauding  expeditions.  A  mile  or  two  beyond 
this  place  we  outspanned  and  made  a  fresh  camp.  The  scenery 
round  was  extremely  pretty,  the  banks  of  the  river  here  being 
thicldy  timbered  on  both  sides.  We  had  to  exercise  great  caution 
when  taking  the  live-stock  to  the  drift  as  the  crocodiles  were 
very  numerous.  From  a  neighbouring  village  we  obtained  a 
native  "dug-out  "  canoe — a  mokoro — and  in  it  we  spent  many 
lazy  hours  drifting  with  tlie  stream  or  being  paddled  along  by  a 
native. 

It  was  now  well  in  the  month  of  August  and  this  pleasant 
but  inactive  life  began  to  become  a  little  tedious.  Brown's 
yarns  were  now  all  hackneyed  ;  our  scanty  stock  of  reading 
matter  was  all  exhausted  ;  and  we  could  not  quarrel,  thanks  to 
the  excellent  disposition  that  my  companion  possessed.  To 
break  a  monotony  which  was  unrelieved  by  any  hunting,  as 
the  game  in  this  region  had  all  been  driven  back  for  many  miles, 
I  decided  to  travel  along  the  river  to  Rhakops  in  a  native  canoe. 
The  scenery  tempted  me.  Early  one  morning  I  set  off  in  the 
mokoro,  in  which  I  was  just  able  to  fix  between  its  narrow  sides 
a  deck-chair.  I  took  with  me  a  good  supply  of  tobacco,  a  cold 
guinea-fowl  and  some  "  roaster-cookies."  My  gun  lay  at  my 
feet.  The  native  paddled  at  the  stern,  or  the  bow,  whichever  one 
likes  to  call  it,  seeing  both  ends  are  practically  the  same.  I  was 
rather  anxious  to  get  a  shot  at  a  crocodile,  having  heard  so  much 
about  the  impenetrability  of  their  skins.  The  swollen  river  made 
it  improbable  that  any  unwieldy  hippopotamus  would  upset 
our  fragile  craft — a  not  very  rare  occurrence  when  the  river  is 
•'i  273 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

low.  I  was  unfortunate  as  regards  tlie  crocodiles  ;  however 
quietly  we  drifted  down  stream  along  the  shaded  ])anks  I  was 
never  in  time  to  get  in  a  shot,  a  splash  a  few  yards  ahead  of  me 
announcing  that  one  had  just  plunged  off  the  bank  into  the 
river,  being  warned  of  our  approach.  Now  and  then  I  caught 
sight  of  one  lying  on  the  matted  reeds  in  the  distance,  but 
always  too  far  out  of  range. 

The  scenery  all  along  the  river  was  charming.  The  silently 
moving  waters  were  unruffled  save  for  the  plunge  of  a  diver  bird. 
The  slender  reeds  lightly  swayed  in  the  faint  iMceze.  The  red 
and  white  lilies,  peeping  out  their  pretty  heads  above  the  water, 
recalled  scenes  of  far-away  Japan.  And  the  thick-foliagcd  trees, 
in  the  shady  boughs  of  wliich  little  bands  of  monkeys  chattered 
and  gaily  plumaged  birds  fluttered  to  and  fro,  added  to  the 
beauty  of  the  scene. 

Gliding  along  the  river,  at  times  drifting  with  tlie  fast-flowing 
stream,  at  others  paddling  over  the  flooded  lands  adjoining,  a 
little  before  sunset  we  reached  the  stadt  of  Rhakops  and  found 
it  practically  flooded  out.  Great  stretches  of  wluit  had  been 
grassy  vekl  when  we  first  arrived  were  now  one  slieet  of  water. 
I  spent  a  couple  of  days  in  the  stadt  awaiting  the  an-ival  of  the 
runners  with  the  Government  mail,  who  I  expected  would  also 
have  some  message  from  my  brother.  I  was  not  disappointed, 
for  on  the  following  day  I  received  a  line  fi'om  him  announciiig 
that  it  was  I'umourcd  that  Morgan  was  just  two  oi-  thi'ee  treks 
away  from  Lotlhakanc  Well,  where  the  note  was  })cnned.  This 
sounded  liopcful,  though  I  did  not  ])lace  overmuch  j'cliance  on 
it.  I  returned  the  next  day  in  the  mokoro,  our  journey  taking  us 
considerably  longer,  as  the  native  had  to  paddle  against  the 
st'-cam  ;  so  it  was  not  till  well  after  sunset  that  the  camp  was 
reached.  On  our  return  ti'ip  my  native  killed  a  large  python 
and  also  a  lagavaan  (a  huge  water-lizai'd),  on  both  of  which 
he  feasted  when  he  arrived  at  the  camp.  The  waggon  that 
we  had  des])atched  for  grain  had  already  returned  when  I 
came  back  ;  so  there  remained  nothing  more  to  do  but  to 
go   on  waiting!  To  l)reak  the  monotony  I  resumed  shaving, 

2/4 


KH  "'Ir  .•^^CJswM.Xfe '■*'«<?'••-••:■ 


A   N.\  1 1\  i;   ■•  i)i\. -or 


( 'k.!--!  \i.    I  III',    Ih  >  II  I',  n  1-.    Ki\  l■;!^ 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

having  up  till  then  grown  a  beard  of  which  I  was  becoming 
quite  proud,  as  it  gave  me  a  most  venerable  appearance  (at 
least  I  thought  so  !).  However,  only  three  days  had  elapsed 
before  the  missing  leader  turned  up  in  company  with  my 
brother,  having  with  them  another  waggon  and  a  Scotch  cart. 
I  learnt  that,  since  I  had  been  on  trek,  the  Bechuanaland 
Go^'crnment  had  issued  regulations  to  the  effect  that  no 
natives  or  cattle  could  enter  the  Protectorate  from  Angola, 
the  territory  in  which  we  were  going  to  recruit,  owing  to  the 
fear  of  introducing  sleeping  sickness.  So  far  as  I  could  see, 
there  was  now  not  the  slightest  chance  that  the  expedition 
would  meet  with  any  success  ;  yet  Morgan  assumed  that  this 
restriction  on  the  part  of  the  Government  was  no  real  obstacle. 
I  do  not  believe  he  gave  the  matter  two  moments'  consecutive 
tliought.  I  never  could  gather,  nor  do  I  know  to  this  day,  what 
the  recruiter  had  been  doing  whilst  we  had  been  on  trek,  beyond 
spending  money  lavishly,  making  fabulous  promises  right  and 
left,  and  leaving  behind  shoals  of  unpaid  bills,  all  of  which 
were  stumbling-blocks  for  me  when  I  returned  from  the  Lake 
some  months  afterwards. 

We  spent  live  more  days  at  our  camp — and  what  were  five  days 
after  Avaiting  over  five  weeks  ? — during  which  Morgan  shortened 
and  welded  a  waggon  tire  on  one  of  the  waggons.  I  particularly 
mention  this  fact  for  it  was  a  most  creditable  perfoiinance 
when  on  the  veld.  He  had  but  a  small  portable  forge  and  anvil 
for  the  job,  and  some  not  over-skilful  assistants.  The  recruiter 
was  indeed  a  most  resourceful  fellow,  and  if  he  had  only 
coupled  his  many  talents  with  a  little  stability  he  would 
have  been  a  success  in  nearly  anything  he  undertook.  As  it 
was,  he  would  walk  with  liis  head  in  the  skies  planning  most 
weird  and  expansive  schemes,  whilst  his  feet  were  in  the 
nmd  tripping  over  the  stones  of  unconsidered  but  essential 
details. 

At  last  we  started  moving  !  Our  caravan  of  four  waggons  and 
two  small  carts  inspanned  and  commenced  trekking  on  the  after- 
noon ol  the  25th  August.  The  leadership  naturally  devolved  on 

^75 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Morgan  ;  and,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  niost  willingly  lianded 
over  the  reins  of  responsibility  and  the  control  of  the  spoilt  and 
turbulent  crowd  of  natives  which  had  been  mine  for  so  many 
weeks.  The  natives  were  dissatisfied  with  all  the  delay,  with 
the  rations,  and  more  particularly  with  the  curtailment  of  their 
Kafir  beer  orgies  ;  so  I  was  quite  contented  to  play  second, 
third  or  fourth  fiddle  for  some  time  to  come. 

A  long  trek  brought  us  to  Rasebaki's  stadt,  one  of  the  large 
villages  on  the  river.  Rasebaki  himself  was  a  Makalaka  native 
and  controlled  a  large  number  of  bushmen  from  the  Heina  veld, 
which  lies  south  of  the  river — a  waterless  desert  except  in  the 
rainy  season.  Here  he  grazed  many  herds  of  cattle.  By  the 
stadt,  when  we  arrived,  were  two  waggons  outspanned.  With 
the  two  Dutchmen  who  aecom]3anicd  the  waggons  were  a  couple 
of  Germans,  both  practically  penniless,  who  had  come  from 
Damaraland.  They  told  us  dismal  talcs  of  the  conditions  pre- 
vailing in  that  territory.  Germany,  it  seems,  beyond  making 
very  extensive  graveyaixl  there,  has  not  much  to  show  for  the 
many  millions  of  marks  frittered  away.  Japan  in  Korea,  and 
Germany  in  Damaraland,  are  the  best  examples  furnished  us 
to-day  of  how  not  to  colonise  ! 

Leaving  this  village  we  had  to  tick  over  a  long  waterless 
sand-belt,  away  from  tlie  course  of  the  rive]'.  We  trekked  all 
night  and  during  the  l3est  part  of  the  following  day,  only  oiit- 
spanniiig  for  short  intervals  to  rest  the  cattle.  We  I'cached  the 
river  again  by  sundown,  outs])anning  at  ^lenoakwena  di'ift  (the 
drift  of  the  Crocodile's  teeth).  The  route  through  which  we  had 
trekked  had  been  cut  by  a  Dutch  transport-rider  in  oi'der  to  save 
the  many  extra  miles  that  had  to  l)e  covered  wlien  kee])iiig 
to  the  course  of  the  river.  Custom  calls  it  Hcndi'ik's  Road, 
from  the  name  of  the  transport-rider  in  question — a  good,  if 
rather  grubby,  old  fellow. 

Wq  were  now  in  lion  veld  and  natives  daily  told  us  stones 
about  the  numerous  lions  seen  in  the  disti'ict.  As  a  rule  it  is  a 
fairl\'  safe  ])lan  to  believe  exactly  iiolliing  a  native  tells  you.  as 
the  iiilornialion  is  ho})ek>sly  iuaeeuiale.  Though  wu  Look  little 

27O 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

1)00(1  of  these  reports  about  lions,  yet  the  sight  of  fresh  lion  spoor 
was  indisputable  evidence  of  their  presence.  As  we  had  so  miicli 
live-stock  with  us,  especially  hoi'scs,  which  after  donkeys  are  the 
most  toothsome  meal  for  a  lion,  we  decided  to  make  no  night 
treks  but  to  laager  our  cattle  and  horses  immediately  after 
sundown.  With  four  waggons,  this  was  an  easy  task,  as  we 
placed  each  at  right  angles  to  the  other,  thus  forming  a  square  ; 
picketing  the  horses  in  the  centre,  our  hres  were  kindled  on  the 
outside  of  the  waggons  with  their  spans  of  oxen  attached.  The 
size  of  our  party,  further,  was  a  source  of  protection  to  us,  for 
lions  as  a  rule  do  not  look  for  trouble  ;  and  they  scent  that  from 
a  big  party.  We  would  inspan  before  sunrise  and  with  the 
horses  going  on  ahead  would  start  our  morning  trek,  out- 
spanning  when  the  sun  became  too  warm. 

Four  long  treks  brought  us  to  Magoodi  drift.  We  had  to  do 
much  extra  trekking  in  this  district,  owing  to  the  flooded  lands 
along  the  river,  which  necessitated  our  cutting  through  bush  over 
heavy  sand-belts  ;  the  old  waggon  I'oad  was  completely  under 
water.  At  one  drift  we  were  compelled  to  ford  a  part  of  the  river, 
as  the  bush  was  too  thick  and  the  trees  too  big  to  cut  a  way 
through.  It  was  a  typical  African  veld  scene  !  The  long  teams 
of  strugglijig  oxen  hauling  the  heavily  laden  waggons  were  nearly 
swept  off  their  feet  by  the  fast-flowing  river  ;  the  drivers  waded 
alongside  their  spans,  cracking  their  long  whips,  shouting  and 
yelling.  The  wide  expanse  of  river  was  on  one  side  and  the  dark 
banks  of  timber  and  bush  on  the  other  ;  and  over  all  the  cloud- 
less sky  with  tlie  rising  sun  shining  down.  We  had  to  use  double 
spans  to  bring  three  of  the  waggons  through  ! 

Beyond  ]\Iagoodi  drift  the  proximity  of  lions  was  unpleasantly 
impressed  on  us.  by  our  fmding  the  spoor  of  two  on  the  track  of 
our  iiorscs.  We  outspanned  that  night  very  soon  after  sunset, 
as  there  was  practically  no  twilight,  and  took  all  the  precautions 
possible  to  guard  our  live-stock.  We  lit  big  fires,  which  each  of 
us  faithfully  relied  on  the  other  to  replenish  when  necessary. 
I  can  just  remember  my  sleepy  eyes  in  the  early  hours  of  the 
morning  lighting  on  a  few  glowing  embers — all  that  was  left  of 

277 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  big  fires  !  In  the  night  the  distant  roaring  of  lions  reached  our 
ears,  and  the  restless  movements  of  the  horses  told  us  that  they 
too  were  aware  of  the  proximity  of  their  natural  enemy.  We  con- 
gratulated ourselves  that  they  were  at  any  rate  keeping  at  a 
respectful  distance.  Dawn  broke  witliout  any  attack,  but  the 
sight  in  the  morning  of  fresh  lion  spoor  not  fifty  yards  away 
from  one  of  the  spans  of  oxen  made  us  all  look  rather  blankly 
at  one  another.  We  secretly  thanked  our  lucky  stars  that  the 
lions  had  considered  discretion  the  better  part  of  valour  !  The 
greatest  risk  to  us,  apart  from  the  possible  loss  of  some  of  our 
oxen  or  horses,  would  have  been  from  the  shower  of  bullets  that 
would  have  assailed  the  visitors  from  our  panic-stricken  natives. 
Not  a  few  hunters,  when  following  up  a  lion  in  company  with 
natives,  have  come  very  near  death  by  the  wild  and  mad  firing 
that  ensued  when  the  lion  suddenly  turned  on  his  pursuers.  It 
is  no  unusual  thing  for  the  native  to  turn,  run  like  a  liare 
and,  incidentally,  fii'c  off  his  gun  over  liis  sliouldcr,  backwards, 
trusting  to  luck  that  lie  might  hit  the  lion,  never  worrying  about 
the  fact  that  it  is  an  equal  chance  that  he  may  hit  the  hunter. 

Trekking  on,  we  reached  Kubu  (Hippo')  drift,  outspanning 
there  for  the  night.  This  drift  fully  lived  up  to  its  name  ;  for  all 
night  we  were  treated  to  a  series  of  grunts  from  the  hippo  in  the 
river.  We  were  only  a  hundred  yards  or  so  from  the  drift,  and  what 
with  the  grunts  and  the  crashing  in  the  reeds  and  bushes  near  by 
I  was  not  surprised  that  I  woke  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  mistook  a  harmless-looking  ox  a  yard  oi-  two  away  for  one 
of  these  unwieldy  animals.  However,  bytlictimcl  was  sufficiently 
awake  to  think  of  reaching  for  my  gun  I  realised  that  it  was  only 
my  imagination  at  work  !  We  reached  ]Makalamabedi  stadt, 
where  one  solitai'y  white  man  was  endeavouring  to  make  a 
fortune.  On  nearing  his  store  we  passed  by  a  large  tree 
blazed  with  an  f  indicating  the  western  boundary  of  Khama's 
territory.  After  outs])anning,  we  cheered  u])  tlie  trader  with 
a  game  of  bridge  and  broached  our  remaining  ease  of  medical 
comforts  for  a  bottle  of  dop  (Ca])e  brandy). 

We  rested  our  stock  for  a  couple  of  days,  taking  this  oppor- 

278 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BOTLETLE 

tunity  of  washing  the  horses  with  a  "  dip  "  to  rid  them  of  ticks 
which  were  worrying  them.  One  of  our  oxen  here  came  to  grief 
by  f alHng  into  a  hole.  The  ox  to  all  intents  and  purposes  appeared 
ujiinjured,  but  we  could  not  get  it  to  move.  We  tried  all  sorts 
of  devices,  but  with  no  effect.  We  even  went  to  the  length  of 
kindling  a  small  fire  under  its  body — a  useful,  if  rather  cruel, 
resource  with  a  stubborn  ox— but  this  also  had  no  effect,  beyond 
making  us  feel  like  a  lot  of  butchers.  We  then  tried  to  haul  it 
to  its  feet  by  means  of  a  block  and  tackle — and  succeeded  ! 
Of  no  avail  ;  its  stubbornness  beat  us.  There  is  nothing  in  this 
world  quite  so  stubborn  as  an  obstinate  ox.  Eventually  we  had 
to  shoot  it — and  eat  it ! 

On  the  evening  of  the  following  day,  the  6th — we  were  now 
in  the  month  of  September — we  trekked  from  Makalamabedi 
into  Ngamiland.  We  were  now  in  Chief  Mathibe's  territorv. 


279 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TREKKING  THROUGH  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

TWO  days  of  trekking  from  Makalamabcdi  along  tlie  river, 
passing  on  the  way  a  small  village  by  INIamoshweu  drift, 
brought  us  to  the  stadt  of  Piet  Scbego,  who  owned  a 
Government  grant  of  land.  Piet  Sebego  and  his  son  were  excellent 
game  shots,  and  the  old  man  even  to-day  outrivals  many  a  good 
hunter,  great  accuracy  in  judgment  of  long  distances  being  his 
special  forte. 

At  all  these  villages  along  the  river  we  were  able  to  barter  for 
as  much  milk  as  we  wanted  ;  fo'-  a  calabash  full  we  would  give, 
say,  a  cup  of  coffee  beans,  or  sugar,  or,  in  the  case  where  the 
village  was  near  a  store,  cash — ^sixpcnce  or  ninepencc  gcnci'ally 
meeting  the  case.  On  these  occasions  iMoigan,  witli  a  generosity 
often  characteristic  of  men  not  using  their  own  money,  would 
overpay  the  natives,  foolishly  thinking  thereby  to  get  a  good 
name  amongst  them,  apparently  not  I'calising  that  he  was  o]ily 
rcirarded  as  a  fool  for  his  conduct.  We  others  used  at  times 
to  tell  him  rather  poiiitedly  what  we  thought  of  it  ;  but  one 
soon  got  tried  of  protesting,  as  it  was  so  useless.  We  let  him  go 
on  his  own  sweet  way — buying  an  ox  o]ie  day  for  hve  ]:)0urds  and 
selling  it  a  week  afterwards  for  tJiree  pounds.  This  was  the 
principle  on  which  he  had  worked  from  tlic  beginning. 

In  regard  to  handling  natives  on  the  veld  there  was  none  of 
us,  unless  it  was  my  brotlier,  wlio  had  staiied  the  right  way. 
Moi-gan's  mctliods  I  have  already  deseiilxcL  He  could  never  see 
that  natives  as  ])ros]:)cetive  recruits  for  tlie  mines  and  natives 
servants  on  the  veld  need  a]>sohite]y  different  tfcatment. 
The  trans])()rt-rider,  13ro\vn,  was  treated  by  the  natives  almost 
as  one  of  themselves  ;  consequently  he  luid  but  little  authority 

2^0 


TREKKING  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

ovcrthcni.  Born  and  bred  in  the  country,  he  was  more  at  liomo 
with  the  natives  than  with  white  men  and  did  not  attempt  to 
maintain  the  aloofness  that  is  essential.  To  be  familiar  with  any 
of  your  natives  is  fatal  !  As  for  myself,  I  had  been  used  to  the 
mines,  where  the  control  of  the  native  is  very  strict  ;  further, 
I  was  too  often  inclined  to  be  hot-headed  and  arbitrary  in  my 
dealings  with  them  on  the  veld,  and  this  tendency  of  mine 
naturally  appeared  more  pronounced  in  contrast  with  the 
wcalaiess  that  so  characterised  the  methods  of  Morgan.  My 
brotlier's  quiet  tactics  were  the  wisest.  His  experience  of  life 
in  the  colony  had  taught  him  not  to  expect  a  white  man's 
standard  from  a  native  ;  he  knew  that  on  the  veld  one  must 
pass  over  many  little  things,  without,  however,  giving  the  native 
the  idea  that  you  are  not  ready  to  enforce  your  authority  when 
necessaiy. 

After  leaving  Piet  Sebego's  stadt,  we  were  compelled  to  make 
long  detours  to  avoid  the  floods,  as  the  usual  waggon  route  along 
the  side  of  the  river  was  impassable.  There  was  much  big  game 
in  this  region.  In  one  day  I  have  seen  spoor  of  hippo  by  the  river, 
of  lion  on  tlie  track  of  zebra,  of  kudu  and  other  big  buck,  not 
to  mention  that  of  smaller  game  such  as  duiker  and  bushbuck. 
-Most  of  tlie  big  game  is  strictly  preserved  ;  none  can  be  shot 
without  s]jccial  permit.  This,  of  course,  only  applies  to  white 
men,  the  natives  being  permitted  to  shoot  what  game  they  like, 
with  one  or  two  exceptions.  It  was  a  rather  tantalising  position. 
Plenty  of  game  and  plenty  of  guns,  yet  unable  to  associate  the 
one  with  the  other  !  An  African  protectorate  is  a  poor  place 
for  anyone  but  the  native. 

Trekking  on  slowly,  two  treks  a  day,  we  reached  the  junction 
of  the  Thamalakan  with  the  Botletle.  By  the  river  here  were 
many  cattle-posts :  the  natives  in  charge  were  nearly  all  Damaras 
— refugees  from  German  South- West  Africa.  The  Damara  are 
essentially  a  cattle  ])eople  and  handle  oxen  better  than  the 
Eeciiuana  do.  From  all  these  posts  we  obtained  plenty  of  milk, 
both  fresh  and  "  calabash  "  variety.  The  "  calabash  "  mjlk  is 
prepared  by  the  Damara  in  a  different  way  from  that  of  the 

281 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Bechuana,  Damara  "  calabash  "  milk  {omaire)  is  obtained  by 
pouring  fresh  milk  daily  into  the  calabash,  or  dried  pumpkin, 
kept  for  the  purpose,  the  water  being  retained  ;  the  Bechuana, 
however,  continually  drain  the  water  off.  The  former,  therefore, 
is  a  kind  of  victuals  and  drink,  whilst  the  latter's  preparation  is 
purely  a  food  ;  both  are  extremeh'  acid  and  sour.  Along  the  river 
banks  in  this  region  we  remarked  a  fibre-yielding  plant  growing 
abundantly  ;  it  was  a  species  of  sansevicra,  from  which  the 
bow-string  hemp  is  obtained.  The  natives  weave  chairs,  mats 
and  fishing  nets  from  it.  Many  large  Baobab  trees  grew  along  the 
banks  of  the  river  here,  the  girth  of  some  of  them  exceeding  sixty 
feet.  They  are  more  popularly  known  as  the  Cream  of  Tartar 
tree,  from  the  fruit  of  which  the  medicine  is  obtained.  One  tree 
by  the  waggon  road  is,  owing  to  its  size,  quite  a  recognised 
landmark  on  the  road  to  the  Lake. 

A  trek  from  tliis  tree  brought  us  to  one  of  the  largest  villages 
on  this  part  of  the  river — -Ramonaisa  stadt  (pronounced  with  a 
series  of  clicks  that  defies  repetition,  as  well  as  imitation).  We 
outspanncd  by  this  stadt  for  the  night.  We  were  now  very  close  to 
Totin,  the  fording-place  for  waggons  about  to  cross  the  Botletle. 
Numerous  reports  had  reached  us  that  the  river  here  was  too 
full  to  ford,  and  that,  even  if  one  could  get  the  waggons  across  in 
safety,  there  were  no  boats  to  convey  goods  to  tlie  opposite  bank. 
An  ingenious  idea  then  occurred  to  Morgan,  namely,  to  con- 
struct a  l)oat  out  of  the  tent  of  one  of  the  waggons  by  covering  it 
with  canvas  soaked  in  oil.  It  was  an  ingenious  and  audacious 
idea,  and  proved  most  successful.  I  have  never  heard  of  it  being 
employed  on  the  veld  before  in  such  circumstances.  It  was  only 
the  question  of  a  boat  that  worried  us,  as  we  had  quite  decided 
to  disregard  all  the  reports  that  the  river  was  too  full  to  ford. 
It  meant  a  good  week  and  more  of  trekking  round  the  south  side 
of  the  Lake  Ngami,  if  we  did  not  cross  tlie  Botletle  at  Totin. 
Our  time  when  outspanned  we  now  employed  in  sewing  canvas, 
of  which  we  had  lortunately  a  considerable  quantity. 

The  night  before  we  reached  Totin  the  recruiter  held  an 
indaba  with  the  natives  in  connection  with  his  scheme  for  recruit- 

2S2 


f.-i 


A   .-,R 


-.1  [I  ,l-:i':     I)\\1\KA-.    i\     X<,A.MILA\|) 


TREKKING  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

ing  refugee  Hereros.  The  idea  he  was  explaining  was  that  he 
intended  to  despatch  messengers  to  German  Ovamboland  to 
bring  away  any  Damaras  wlio  wislied  to  Join  their  chief  in 
the  TransvaaL  Whilst  ai-guing  with  some  refractory  headman 
(a  murderer  with  a  stiff  price  on  his  head  !)  he  assumed  the  role 
of  a  philanthropist  and  pointed  out  to  the  native  what  a  kind 
man  he  was  to  spend  all  his  money  and  go  to  such  trouble  to 
bring  their  oppressed  countrymen  to  the  Transvaal.  The  wily 
old  Damara  replied,  through  our  interpreter,  Philip,  words  to 
this  effect  :  "  Chuck  it,  baas,  why  waste  your  money  and  your 
kind  heart  on  us  ungrateful  people  ?  "  We  nearly  exploded  at 
this  retort ;  even  Morgan  seemed  a  little  disconcerted,  though 
not  for  long.  The  Damara  is  a  most  intelligent  native.  This  old 
scoundrel  knew  full  well  that  every  native  we  recruited  meant 
a  fiver  or  so  in  our  pockets.  The  recruiter  used  to  lie  glibly  to 
them  and  they  in  turn  to  him,  each  pretending  to  believe  what 
the  other  said.  It  was  not  unusual  for  our  headboy,  Philip,  to 
come  to  one  of  us  afterwards  and  say :  "  Is  this  true,  baas,  that  so 

and  so ?  "  We  would  either  have  to  plead  ignorance  or 

unblushingly  confirm  one  of  the  recruiter's  weird  and  out- 
rageous statements.  Recruiting  natives  in  Africa  is  certainly  not 
the  noblest  of  professions  !  After  our  indaha  was  finished  some  of 
the  Damaras,  now  more  cheerful  at  the  prospect  of  soon  reaching 
the  Lake  and  seeing  their  friends  again,  began  to  sing  hymns, 
taught  them  in  their  young  days  by  the  German  missionaries 
before  they  were  expelled  from  their  homes  by  the  German 
soldiers.  The  irony  of  it  !  Taught  the  love  of  God  by  the  German 
missionary,  to  be  hunted  down  like  rats  by  the  German  soldiers  ! 

The  Damara  sings  in  perfect  harmony  ;  each  takes  his  part 
most  accurately.  The  Damara  is  indeed  the  most  musical  native 
in  South  Africa,  as  musical  as  the  Bcchuana  is  unmusical.  In 
the  quiet  night  air  their  rendering  of  some  of  the  old  hyimi  tunes 
was  very  sweet,  recalling  to  one  days  at  school  on  a  Sunday 
evening  when  one's  greatest  ambition  was  to  win  the  quarter- 
mile. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  15th  we  outspanned  near  the  store 

283 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

at  Totiii.  We  spent  our  first  day  in  preparing  the  boat  for  its 
launch.  We  took  off  the  tent  from  the  waggon,  and  along  the 
bottom,  inside,  we  fastened  a  heavy  beam  of  wood  securing 
it  firmly  in  its  place  with  reims  (strips  of  hide).  This  was  the 
keel.  Round  the  sides,  near  the  top,  we  fastened  stout  poles. 
These  were  the  bulwarks.  The  framework  of  the  tent  had  a  little 
canvas  left  on  it,  tliough  ]-ather  torn  ;  over  this  we  wrapped  our 
waterproof  sail,  lashing  it  firmly  with  wetted  reims.  As  a  further 
precaiition  we  smeared  tlie  lower  part — the  part  that  would 
always  be  in  the  water — with  lard,  and  treated  the  seams  in  the 
sail  in  like  fashion. 

We  launclied  our  novel  craft  on  the  following  morning  and  it 
floated  as  ])uoyantly  as  a  cork.  Its  "  trials  "  were  most  successful. 

The  river  here  was  split  into  two  channels  with  a  narrow  strip 
of  land  between.  We  launched  the  boat  at  the  narrowest  part 
of  the  stream,  wliich  was  about  seventy  feet  or  so  in  width  ; 
and  by  dint  of  vigorously  paddling  with  poles,  and  much  vigorous 
language  also,  we  managed  to  effect  communication  with  the 
opposite  Ijank.  Having  succeeded  in  doing  this,  we  fastened 
lines  to  the  bow  and  stern  of  the  boat,  by  which  means  we  pulled 
the  ferry  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other.  The  following 
diagram  may  give  tlie  reader  an  idea  of  the  appearance  and 
construction  of  our  hastily  improvised  ferry-boat. 


^^ 


We  had  now  a  ])ig  task  in  front  of  us — ^unloadino;  the  waffffons, 
stowing  tjic  goods  into  the  boat,  and  off-loading  the  boat  on  the 
opposite  side.  The  same  work  had  then  to  be  done  over  again  in 
order  to  reacli  tJie  farther  side  of  the  river.  Loading  the  heavy 

284 


TREKKING  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

and  cumbrous  packing-cases  into  this  fragile  craft  was  a  job  that 
demanded  the  greatest  care,  as  one  heavy  ease  allowed  to  fall 
would  have  smashed  the  framework  to  pieces.  None  of  the  natives 
would  trust  their  lives  in  the  boat  till  they  saw  us  white  men 
make  several  trips  across  and  return  in  safety.  The  idea  of  a  boat 
made  of  anything  but  wood,  floating,  was  too  startling  for  them. 
Our  boat  held  as  much  as  one  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  in 
weight,  apart  from  one  or  two  persons  in  it  as  well.  Its  staunch- 
ness was  remarkable  ;  it  did  not  leak  an  inch  in  a  day.  Soon 
news  got  about  of  the  marvellous  boat  made  of  canvas  that 
floated,  and  we  used  daily  to  have  numerous  spectators,  all  sorts 
of  ragged  and  black  humanity,  gazing  with  open  mouths  at  its 
passage  l^etween  tlie  banks. 

After  the  hrst  stream  had  been  negotiated,  we  started  the  task 
of  transferring  the  goods  across  the  second  one.  When  this  was 
accomplished,  and  the  oxen  had  been  made  to  swim  across, 
we  had  to  get  our  waggons  over.  With  the  first  waggon  avc  were 
unfortunate.  The  method  we  employed  was  to  fasten  a  line  to  the 
bugle  of  the  disselhoom{i.e.  to  the  end  of  the  waggon-shaft),  the 
line  being  taken  over  in  the  boat  to  the  opposite  bank.  The  waggon 
was  then  pushed  down  the  sloping  banks  ;  when  in  the  water  it 
was  pulled  by  the  oxen  across  and  up  the  other  side.  At  our  first 
attempt  we  unfortunately  omitted  to  make  the  upper  part  of 
the  waggon  fast  to  the  body — it  is  usually  only  connected  by  a 
pin^ — the  result  being  that  the  latter  only  reached  the  opposite 
bank,  tlie  other  part  being  left  submerged.  The  not  ovci'-pleasant 
task  of  diving  into  the  stream  to  fasten  a  line  to  the  sunken 
part  of  the  waggon  fell  on  mc,  as  I  happened  to  be  the  unfor- 
tunate individual  in  the  boat.  The  river  was  thickly  entangled 
with  reeds,  and  also  full  of  crocodiles.  But  the  job  had  to  be 
done,  and  was  done. 

The  river  was  very  deep — well  over  fifty  feet  in  midstream. 
It  was  a  curious  sight,  and  also  a  rather  anxious  one,  when  the 
waggon  completely  disappeared  from  view.  We  all  heaved  a  sigh 
of  relief — particularly  myself,  for  I  was  still  in  the  boat— Avhen 
the  ^vhite  tent  appeared  above  the  surface. 

285 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Excepting  the  one  mishap,  we  transferred  safely  all  the 
waggons  across  both  streams,  our  first  experience  having  taught 
us  wisdom.  We  floated  the  two  Cape  carts  over.  In  doing  this  we 
adopted  the  simple  plan  of  lashing  to  the  axles  of  the  vehicles 
empty  water-barrels,  which  fully  answered  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing them  afloat.  After  this  work  was  finished  we  had  to  get  the 
mob  of  horses  across  ;  this  was  the  hardest  task  of  all  !  Our 
first  attempt  resulted  in  the  horses  stampeding  and  getting 
jammed  in  the  reedy  swamp  ;  to  release  them  from  this  we  had 
to  wade  in  up  to  our  waists  to  turn  them  and  drive  them  back 
to  the  bank  whence  they  had  come.  Another  attempt  was 
equally  unsuccessful.  Finally,  by  tying  one  of  our  hunting 
horses  behind  our  boat  and  letting  him  swim  in  its  wake  tlie 
others  were  ijiduced  to  follow  ;  and  all  crossed  in  safety. 

In  five  days  our  waggons  were  all  reloaded,  our  boat 
dismantled,  and  we  were  ready  to  resume  our  trek  on  to 
Lake  Ngami. 

All  our  spans  of  oxen  had  to  be  left  here  in  quarantine, 
fresh  spans  having  been  sent  out  to  us  by  a  trader  in  the 
stadt  at  Tsau.  It  was  arranged  that  Morgan  and  my  brother 
should  ride  ahead  in  order  to  make  preparations  for  our  camp. 
Brown  and  I  being  left  behind  to  bring  on  the  waggons  and 
horses, 

Part  of  the  waggon  road  lay  along  the  edge  of  the  Lake,  which 
is  really  no  lake  at  all  but  a  mass  of  swampy  reeds.  It  was  indeed 
a  most  disappointing  sight.  Wliat  was  in  Livingstone's  time  ^ 
a  fine-looki]ig  sheet  of  water,  twenty  miles  long  and  ten  miles 
wide,  on  wliich  could  be  heard  the  thunder  of  the  breaking 
waves,  is  now  a  vast  reedy  swamp  -with  a  treacherous  bottom 
impassable  for  man  or  beast.  In  most  years  much  of  the  Lake  is 
on  hrc,  gi'cot  stretches  of  reeds  smouldering  for  months.  Lake 
Ngami  is  said  to  fill,  roughly,  every  ten  years.  In  1899  it  was  re- 
ported to  be  full,  as  it  was  during  our  visit.  To  call  itfull,  however, 
is  quite  a  mistake,  as  it  is  never  that  to-day  and  never  will  be 
again,  for  its  former  inlet  at  the  north-western  extremity  is  now 

M,akc  Xgaini  was  discovered  by  Livingstone  and  Oswell  iu  1849. 

266 


M  AK.!  i;a  \\'(  '.mi;n 


TREKKING  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

quite  silted  up.  When  the  Okavango  is  exceptionally  full,  owing 
to  heavy  rains  up  north,  the  Lake  receives  a  small  extra  supply 
of  water  from  the  swamps  which  lie  on  its  northern  bank ;  in 
normal  times  it  receives  little  or  no  water.  In  Livingstone's  day 
it  received  a  direct  stream  from  the  River  Okavango  and  its 
tributaries  ;  but  to-day,  not  only  is  its  inlet  silted  up,  but  the 
course  of  the  greater  part  of  the  water  of  the  Okavango  has  also 
been  diverted  by  the  silt. 

After  three  days'  trekking  we  reached  the  stadt  of  Tsau.  The 
veld  was  very  similar  to  that  through  which  we  had  been 
trekking  before  reaching  Totin  and  much  of  the  land  was 
flooded. 

I  rode  in  just  before  sundown  and  found  the  forerunners  of  our 
party  in  one  of  the  stores  busily  playing  bridge  whilst  awaiting 
our  arrival.  Wc  outspanned  our  waggons  close  to  the  stadt  for 
that  night.  It  was  the  evening  of  the  26th  of  September.  Brown 
and  I  had  been  on  trek,  or  at  least  on  the  veld,  for  sixteen 
weeks ;  so  neither  of  us  M'cre  at  all  sorry  for  a  short  change. 

Tsau  is  the  Serowc  of  Ngamiland,  being  the  capital  and  the 
largest  stadt  of  the  territory.  It  is  situated  on  one  of  the  small 
clianncis  of  the  Okavango,  some  thirty  miles  to  the  north-west 
of  the  lake. 

The  ruling  tribe  of  Ngamiland  are  the  Batawana,  an  offshoot 
of  the  Bamangwato  (Khama's  people),  though  the  real  owners 
and  the  most  numerous  tribe  of  natives  are  the  jMakuba,  who 
are  essentially  a  river  people. 

The  Batawana  are  only  a  small  tribe,  numbering  some  fifteen 
hundred  people  in  all.  They  are  rich  and  prosperous,  well  armed 
and  own  excellent  horses.  The  avci-age  Batawana  is,  however, 
of  poor  physique  and  is  effeminate  in  comparison  with  his 
Vassal,  the  IMakuba.  The  latter  is  nothing  more  than  a  slave, 
as  he  does  all  the  household  and  agricultural  work  for  his  owner, 
receiving  in  return  only  his  keep  and  perhaps  a  small  payment 
in  kind.  The  Makuba,  though  of  sturdy  physique,  has  little 
heart. 

Ngamiland  is  a  large  territory.  It  extends  from  Damaraland, 

287 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

on  its  western  boundary,  to  jMakalamabedi  on  the  east ;  from  the 
Cliobc  and  tlie  strip  of  German  tcrritoi-y  on  the  north  to,  roughly, 
latitude  23°  south. 

The  territory  is  nominally  ruled  by  Chief  ^Mathibe,  who  is  a 
youth  of  rather  an  obnoxious  t\qoc.  He  was  only  recently  made 
chief,  as  his  throne  had  been  usurped  by  one  Sekgoma,  who 
was,  however,  deposed  by  the  British  Government. 

Stationed  at  Tsau  is  a  resident  magistrate,  who  more  or  less 
pulls  the  strings,  the  young  chief  possessing  in  reality  but  little 
power.  ]\Iuch  of  the  successful  administration  of  native  terri- 
tories depends  on  the  type  of  man  who  represents  the  British 
Government.  Ngamiland  is  fortunate  in  this  respect,  for  it 
possesses  a  very  capable  magistrate  in  ]Mr  A.  G.  Stigand,  who 
has  able  control  of  the  affairs  of  the  country  as  well  as  con- 
siderable influence  with  the  natives. 

I  never  realised  quite  so  much  as  when  in  this  part  of  Africa 
the  tactful  and  peaceful  methods  employed  by  the  British  in 
their  colonisation  of  lai-ge  native  territories.  It  is  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  blundering  military  methods  adopted  by  the 
Germans  in  the  adjoining  colony  of  Damaraland.  Since  1885 
Beehuanaland  has  been  a  protectorate  of  Great  Britain.  Dui-ing 
tliat  period  of  a  qiuirtcr  of  a  century  there  has  been  practically 
no  bloodshed  in  the  whole  territory.  The  many  native  tri]>es 
have  lived  in  harmony  one  with  another,  and  all  in  hainiony 
with  their  protectors.  The  country  has  prospered  yearly  ;  iind, 
though  the  power  held  Ijy  tlie  native  is  slowly  but  almost 
imperceptibly  passing  away  from  his  Iiands  into  tliose  of  the 
virtual  I'ulers  of  the  country,  when  the  time  comes  for  tlie 
Union  Goveiiiment  of  Soutli  Africa  to  absoil)  the  Protectorate 
there  need  be  no  fear  of  auy  disturbances.  We  siiall  not — to  quote 
the  words  of  the  Ja]ianesc  (iovei-nor-General  of  Korc^a  befoi-c 
the  Aimexation — ■''  naturally  anticipate  more  or  less  serious 
disturbances." 

The  following  statistics  speak  for  themselves  : — 
The  ])oliee  force  of  the  Beehuanaland  Protectorate  consists 
of  180  men  all  told.  Of  this  numix'r  13G  ai'c  natives,  the  remaiii- 

288 


TREKKING  XGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

ing  few  being  Britishers.  The  annual  cost  in  1909-1910  was  only 
£37,832. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  lands  of  the  Protectorate 
aggregate  ovei'  275,000  square  miles,  and  support  a  population 
of  over  125,000  natives,  all  more  or  less  half  civilised,  it  speaks 
higlily  for  the  pacific  quality  of  British  rule  and  colonisation. 

Cilance  for  a  moment  at  the  adjoining  colony  of  Damaraland. 

Up  to  the  middle  of  the  year  1905  over  £12,500,000  had  been 
expended  on  the  colonisation  of  that  territory,  practically  every 
penny  oir  the  pacification  of  the  natives,  which  has  resulted 
chielly  in  their  extermination  and  expulsion  from  the  country. 
There  must  Ijc  in  Damaraland  more  hundreds  of  troopers  than 
there  are  single  ones  in  Bechuanalaiid.  Consequently  since  1884 
peace  has  never  reigned  in  that  territory. 

Thousands  of  the  natives  have  been  shot  down  and  such 
a  steady  exodus  of  Hereros  has  been  going  on  during  the  last 
few  years  that  the  country  is  becoming  almost  denuded  of  its 
labour.  If  there  are  not  already  more  Hereros  outside  Damara- 
huid  than  within  its  boidcrs  there  soon  will  be  ! 

The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  Germany  started  ruling  the 
country  by  putting  on  the  natives  ten  times  the  pressure  than 
is  even  to-day  put  on  the  Bechuana,  after  twenty-seven  years' 
rule.  Whilst  I  was  at  the  Lake  and  on  trek  I  met  many  Germans 
juigrating  from  their  colony  into  British  territoi-y,  and  not  one 
of  tliem  had  a  good  word  to  say  for  their  own  colony— Damara- 
land. And  tliis  is  the  example  that  Japan  tliinks  (it  to  copy  ! 
Cannot  these  n.ations  learn  anythijig  froin  Cromwell's  bloody 
victories  in  Ireland  ? 

Poi'tuguese  colonising  methods  are  but  little  better.  The  only 
A\eapon  that  is  in  use  is  a  regiment  of  soldiers  ;  never  tact,  or 
an  appeal  to  the  native  to  develop  himself — always  tlie  same 
appeal  to  the  devil  tliat  is  in  him.  ^Yllere  the  English  erect:  a 
fe\v  thatched  huts  and  station  one  wliite  man  and  a  couple  of 
native  troopers,  the  German  and  the  Portuguese  eieet  foits 
and  station  regiments — a  distinct  declaration  of  war  !  ^Military 
oceupalion  of  a  eounlry  is  not  colonisa.tion,  as  so  many  militaiy 
1  2lS9 


A  AVANDEllER'S  TRAIL 

administiators  seem  to  think.  As  in  the  case  of  Korea,  I  do  not 
deny  the  possible  successful  exploitation  of  some  of  the  resources 
of  the  countiy.  It  is  against  the  spirit  of  the  colonisation  that  I 
protest. 

I  wonder  if  the  Germans  in  Germany  know  that  a  track  of 
bones  stretches  from  the  copper  inines  of  Otavu  through  the 
waterless  deserts  to  Lake  Ngami,  the  bones  of  those  who 
preferred  death  in  a  desert  to  life  in  their  own  country  under 
German  rule.  That  is  what  militarism  has  done  for  Damai-a- 
land  ! 

Another  f i-uitless  period  of  waiting  ensued  after  our  arrival 
in  the  stadt  of  Tsau.  The  Bechuanaland  Government's  restric- 
tion regarding  the  entry  of  natives  and  cattle  from  Angola 
practically  quashed  the  whole  scheme  in  everybody's  eyes 
except  those  of  the  recruitei-.  He  propounded  some  weird  and 
remarkable  schemes.  They  stretched  from  Wallisch  Bay  to  the 
Victoria  Falls.  A  trek  of  a  thousand  miles  was  to  him  a  detail 
quite  unworthy  of  any  serious  considej-ation.  As  is  the  usual 
case  with  such  men,  he  was  never  at  a  loss  for  an  answer.  If 
suddenly  asked  by  ore  of  us  as  to  whejc  the  grain  to  feed  the 
party  on  this  thousand-mile  trek  was  to  come  fi'om  he  would 
]cply  glibly  and  readily  :  ''  Ah,  that's  all  right ;  I  have  arranged 
that  ;  don't  you  fellows  worry  !  "  As  a  juatter  of  fact  he  had 
never  thought  of  the  mattei'  bef  ojc.  One  day  it  would  be  arranged 
that  I  sliould  trek  with  a  waggon  into  Barotselaiid  ;  my  brother 
into  the  Congo  ;  whilst  he  would  join  us,  or  one  of  us,  via  Tim- 
buctoo  !  He  would  have  forgotten  all  about  the  scheme  next 
day.  Thus  it  went  on,  while  all  the  time  our  natives  were  eating 
tluir  ]ic;uls  off  in  idleness,  their  ridiculous  wages  mounting 
steiulily  up.  As  su})})lics  wcic  all  stop]icd  from  Johannesburg 
every  now  and  tlien  a  hve-pound  ox  would  have  to  be  sold  for 
three  ]X)unds  ea^h  to  ])ay  them.  Such  a  small  delail  as  tlie  salary 
of  the  Vvlule  men  of  tlu-  ])arty  was  too  trivial  for  our  leadei'  to 
consider.  In  Tsau,  as  also  in  most  ]:)lace^.  Ave  were  regai'ded 
as  ;i  ]iiiilanUn()pie  exjX'diLion  lilted  out  to  hij'c  fool-niggers  as 
ex}nTt    drivcis    on    double    wages,   io   buy   horses    and   ^vateh 

290 


\  ■'<4' 


V,,*  *f  >■•-■'    •  'J  ■" 


^ 

1  f '■:■'■ 

^. 

■  ',-  ■ 

't  r  '»   ■' - 

-^^Cif 

-•■■■.  *• 
',*»■'■■• 

TREKKING  NGAMILAND  TO  THE  LAKE 

them  die.  Our  actions,  in  their  collective  aspect  at  least, 
really  deserved  no  better  verdict  ! 

However,  after  ten  days  of  inactivity,  or  of  laying  plans,  which 
chiefly  consisted  of  sitting  on  storekeepers'  counters  playing 
patience  and  swallowing  the  yarns  of  every  Ananias  in  the 
stadt,  my  brother  and  I  were  detailed  off  to  trek  north  along  the 
Okavango  to  Portuguese  territory.  ]\ly  brother  assured  me  he 
had  only  a  hazy  idea  of  what  he  was  to  do.  Being  heartily  tired 
of  the  fruitless  and  constant  confabs,  we  were  only  too  glad  to 
get  away  on  the  veld  once  again. 

We  trekked  out  of  the  stadt  on  the  evening  of  the  7th  October. 
After  trekking  for  two  hours  the  driver  skilfully  smashed  the 
disselhoom  of  the  waggon  by  driving  the  hind  wheel  into  a  deep 
rut.  We  thereon  outspanned,  ordered  the  natives  to  make  a 
new  shaft,  and  started  to  eat  our  supper  quite  at  peace  with  the 
world.  It  might  be  interesting  for  the  reader  to  compare  our 
st;u't  here  with  that  made  by  my  brother  and  myself  from 
Palap^'c.  It  was  similar  in  one  way,  but  not  in  another. 
Experience  is  a  good  if  hard  teacher. 


291 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALOXG  TJIE  OKAVAXGO  AND  RETURN  TO  THE  LAKE 

THE  rainy  season  had  now  set  in  and  tliunderstojins 
were  the  order  of  tlie  day.  We  continued  sleeping  in 
the  o])cn,  thougli  we  generally  took  the  precaution  of 
rigging  u])  a  canvas  awning  over  our  beds  beside  the  waggon. 

When  the  waggon  was  repaired  we  resumed  the  northern  trek. 
The  country  here  is  ratlier  fiat  and  sparsely  covered  with  tiecs. 
Numerous  watei'less  sand-belts  with  the  inevitable  mimosa 
thorn-bush  lie  along  the  swamps  of  the  Okavango  ajid  stretch  for 
miles  towards  the  borders  of  Damaraland.  Faither  north,  the 
counti-y  is  more  thickly  wooded  and  has  richer  vegetation. 
Some  of  the  scenery  is  most  alluring.  The  gi'ass  in  ])ln.ces  is 
exce})tionally  rich  and  green  and  affords  excellent  grazing  for 
stock. 

We  had  receivcKl  numerous  warnings  before  leaving  Tsau  as 
to  the  numljer  and  size  of  tlie  lions  that  infested  this  ])art  of 
Ngamiland.  Had  ■we  believed  these,  we  sliould  iuue  ex})eeted  lo 
meet  at  least  one  lion  every  half-houi'.  That  lioiv>  Avere  fiiii-ly 
numci-ous  in  tliis  ])a]'t  was,  however,  evident  from  mucli 
fresh  spooi'  noticeable  every  day.  As  we  liad  with  lis  no 
horses  we  did  not  take  any  special  precautions,  trusting  to 
luck  tliat  no  hun  would  take  it  into  his  head  to  sam])le  our 
oxen. 

With  the  rains  had  cojue  the  mosquitoes  and  trt:kki]ig  now 
was  not  hah'  so  enjoyable  as  when  under  cloudless  skies  in  the 
dry  season. 

Al'ler  b(;iug  on  trcls  I'or  ihi'ee  days  our  eccentric  leader  caught 
Us  u]j  in  the  C'a])e  cail.  11<'  had  a})])areiitly  changed  his  ])lans 
again  ;    but   nothing    sui})!ised    us    much    Jiow.   His  conqjany, 

292 


ALOXC    OKAVAXGO  AND   EETI^RN  TO  LAKE 

llioiio-]).  was  always  weloomr  on  t1io  veld,  for  ]k'  wns  siif']i  an 
cni  orf aiuing  fellow. 

After  a  Aveek's  slow  trekking-  avc  I'eaelied  Kumbe,  a  small 
shult  on  one  of  the  swamp  ontlets  of  the  Okavango.  Knrnbc 
]>ossesses  one  store,  as  it  is  the  eentre  of  the  grain  disti-iet  for 
Lake  Xgami.  chiefly  for  mealies  and  Kafir  corn. 

Another  wait  took  place  here.  Further  plans  were  concocted. 
The  outcome  was  that  my  brother  was  to  trek  on  to  Andai'a,  a 
])Iace  just  on  the  border  of  Portuguese  teri'itory,  to  obtain  from 
the  Portuguese  fort  there  permission  to  take  one  or  two  guns 
into  their  territoiy.  It  was  a  good  fortnight's  trek  for  a  heavy 
Avaggon.  Ikfore  reaching  Portuguese  country  a  narrow  strip 
of  German  land  has  to  be  crossed.  It  was  arranged  that  my 
brother  should  wait  at  Andara  for  the  recruiter,  whilst  in  the 
jneantime  I  was  to  retui-n  to  the  Lake,  and,  when  a  number  of 
na,ti^'es  were  recruited  by  the  sanguine  ^lorgan,  I  was  to  take 
them  down  to  tlie  Transvaal.  This  developnicnt  was  expected 
Avithin  a  moiith  ! 

A  couple  of  tradei's  nnd  one  of  the  mounted  police  corporals 
on  duty  in  this  region  joined  us  at  Kurube,  so  we  were  quite  a 
big  pai'ty.  We  went  out  foi-  several  shoots  and  bagged  enough 
game  to  kce])  us  well  sup]ilied  with  venison.  Very  frequently 
\\hcn  on  the  veld  I  used  a  small  Mauser  pistol  (7mm.  -300), 
t!ie  ense  of  which  can  be  used  as  a  stock  converting  the  pistol 
into  a  small  rifle.  On  one  of  these  occasions  I  dropped  a  large 
I'iet-buek  I'am  at  eighty  yards  and  it  was  really  extraordinary 
to  see  tlie  astonj'sliment  of  the  natives  who  could  not  realise 
tlie  Icilling  power  of  that  little  I'ifle.  I  found  a  Mauser  pistol  a 
most  useful  weapon  on  the  veld,  particularh-  when  on  horse- 
back. 

U])  in  tliis  I'cgion  I  came  across  a  vei-y  peculiar  tree  and  one 
I  never  reenll  having  seen  elsewhere.  It  was  popularly  known 
in  x]]c  eoimt''y  n,s  the  sausage  tree,  on  account  of  its  quaint 
s.-ni^age-shaped  fruit.  Its  1)otanical  name.  I  was  told,  is  kigelia 
pinnata.  It  has  handsome  claret-coloured  flowers.  The  quaint 
f  mit  grows  to  a  large  size  and  increases  in  weight  to  as  much  as 

293 


A   WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

eight  pounds  ;  in  fact,  cases  are  not  imlcnown  wlien  the  fall  of 
this  f niit  on  a  native's  Iiead  lias  resulted  fatally. 

Though  there  was  plenty  of  timber  up  here,  there  was  none 
of  any  real  value  ;  tliis  can  be  said  of  almost  all  Bcchuanaland. 
One  or  two  trees  of  a  rubber-bearing  species  were  noticeable, 
though  the  rubber  produced  was  of  poor  quality.  Some  of  the 
veld  round  Kurube  had  a  inost  pleasant  odour  after  rain,  and 
a  walk  through  the  bush  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  was  most 
enjoyable,  ^Many  ant-hills  of  weird  shape  and  design  were  in 
evidence  ;  fig-trees,  also,  with  their  usual  habitues — troops  of 
monkeys — were  mnncrous,  and  birds  and  game  of  all  descrip- 
tions abounded  ;  while  fish  was  plentiful  in  the  river.  The  trader 
was  the  solitary  occupant  of  the  place.  He  was  an  ardeiit 
follower  of  Izaak  Walton  and  many  trophies  in  the  shape  of 
dried  heads  of  tiger-fish  lined  the  walls  of  his  hut.  These  tiger- 
fish  require  a  lot  of  skill  to  land,  owing  to  their  successive  leaps 
into  the  air  after  taking  the  hook. 

A  big  troop  of  elephants  frequented  this  district,  visiting  the 
vieis  near  the  river  to  drink  :  their  home  was  in  a  range  of  kopjes 
far  away  to  the  westward.  One  day  these  elephants  provided  me 
with  a  little  excitement,  or  at  least  a  little  fresh  experience.  I 
was  out  looking  for  something  to  shoot  when  I  caught  sight  of 
fresh  elephant  spoor,  and,  being  anxious  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of 
this  troop,  I  decided  to  follow  up  their  track.  The  question  of 
shooting  them,  had  1  with  mc  a  gun  of  large  enough  bore,  was 
not  to  be  considered,  as  elephant  is  royal  ganre.  To  trace  their 
course  in  the  thick  bush  was  no  difficult  task,  as  it  consisted  of 
a  wide  path  through  the  veld,  broken  saplings  and  trampled 
bush  littering  the  ground.  Recent  droppings  informed  me  that 
it  was  not  so  long  since  the  troop  had  passed.  After  tramping 
a  few  miles  I  came  on  to  one  of  their  drinking  pools,  the  thick 
grass  whicli  grew  around  the  ])an  being  flattened  to  the  ground 
under  the  heavy  feet  of  the  elephants.  Oil  all  sides  in  tlie  mud 
the  large  foot]')rints  of  the  animals  wei'C  visible.  I  had  been  so 
absoi'bed  in  following  up  the  elephants  that  I  had  not  noticed 
it  was  getting  late,  and  so  I  had  finally  to  give  u})  the  idea  of 

294 


ALONG  OKAVANGO  AND  RETURN  TO  LAKE 

reaching  the  troop  and  started  to  return  to  tlie  camp.  As  not  a 
landmark  of  any  description  was  in  sight — only  a  sea  of  thick 
busli  and  trees — I  decided  to  retrace  my  spoor,  as  I  knew  I  had 
covered  quite  a  long  distance.  This  task  was  not  easy,  as  the 
soft  and  yielding  sandy  soil  is  not  good  gi'ound  to  retain  a  clear 
footprint.  After  a  short  while  I  became  so  confused  that  I  gave 
up  the  idea  of  retracing  my  steps  and  struck  out  boldly  through 
the  bush.  I  had  an  instinctive  idea  where  the  camp  lay,  but 
nothing  more,  as  there  was  neither  sun  nor  wind  to  give  me  any 
assistance.  For  about  an  hour  I  kept  steadily  on  without  per- 
ceiving any  sign  of  the  waggon  road  which  I  had  to  cross  before 
I  reached  our  outspan.  When  I  had  covered  a  few  miles  I  began 
to  feel  just  a  sliade  of  doubt  as  to  my  direction.  This  feeling  grew, 
when  after  a]iot]ier  long  trudge  no  sign  of  the  road  was  forth- 
coming. I  climbed  a  large  ant-hill  and  looked  round  from  the  top. 
Only  a  sea  of  trees  and  bush  met  my  eyes  on  all  sides,  exactly 
similar  to  the  veld  through  which  I  had  been  trudging  for  so 
long ;  and  the  nasty  feeling  that  I  was  lost  began  to  assei't  itself 
above  the  instinctive  thought  that  the  direction  in  which  I  was 
going  was  the  right  one.  I  fought  the  feeling  down  and  started 
off  again.  After  a  while  I  fired  a  couple  of  shots  with  a  period  of 
half-a-minute  between — a  signal  tha.t  I  laiew  would  be  recog- 
nised, if  heard,  by  those  at  the  camp.  Straining  my  ears  I 
caught  no  reply,  and,  feeling  more  and  more  perturbed  in  mind, 
I  kept  on  vainly  trying  to  pick  up  any  bearings  in  the  gathering 
darlaress.  Suddenly,  through  the  bush  in  front  of  me,  not  five 
hundred  yards  away  from  the  ant-hill,  the  welcome  sight  of  the 
waggon  road  greeted  my  eyes.  How  glad  I  felt- — and  yet  how 
foolish  !  ]My  relief,  thougli,  was  greater,  as  I  had  no  wish  to  spend 
a  cold  and  rainy  night  in  a  lion  veld  witli  only  a  Mauser  pistol 
with  me.  I  was  also  tliinking  of  the  good  meal  that  was  waiting 
me  at  the  camp.  On  my  arrival  there  shortly  afterwards,  my 
companions  remarked,  on  seeing  me  return  empty-handed : 
"  Xo  luck  ?  Heard  your  two  shots — we  tlionght  you  had 
brought  something  for  the  pot  !  '  With  a  composui'c  equal  to 
that  of  a  Russian  diplomatist  I  replied  nonchalantly:  ''  No  !  I 

295 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

missed  the  confouiidcd  hvutc — think  I  wounded  it  thougli  !  " 
The  shots  being  so  near  the  waggons  the  idea  liad  never  occurred 
to  my  com]ianions  that  it  was  a  signal  of  distress.  My  trnthl'ul 
remark  ended  tlie  episode.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had 
experienced  so  ))ad]y  tlie  very  disiigreeable  fechng  of  being  k:)st 
in  tlie  veld  ! 

Tlie  following  day  my  brother  started  on  liis  lonely  trek  to  the 
Portuguese  border.  I  trekked  witli  him  for  a  little  way,  then  with 
just  a  l)i-ief  woi-d  and  a  farewell  luuidsliake  we  paited. 

The  weathei"  was  now  very  hot  and  steamy  and  my  cnei'gy 
during  the  day  was  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  After  a  stay  of  a 
few  more  days  at  Kurube  the  recruiter  and  I  started  to  trek 
back  to  Tsau,  travelling  in  the  Cape  cart.  Five  days  of  easy 
trekking  brought  us  to  the  camp  (in  chai'ge  of  lii'own),  which 
was  situated  about  seven  miles  outside  the  stadt.  During  our 
I'etuj'ii  trek  our  luck  with  the  numerous  game  became  disgrace- 
ful. I  I'ccall  one  most  tantalising  incident.  I  liad  put  up  a  riet- 
buck,  \\iiich  ran  for  some  distance,  then  stop]  d  and  stared 
back.  It  was  not  a  h.undj'cd  yards  off — -an  easy  sliot,  even  for 
me,  but  for  the  fact  tliat  rigiit  behind  tlie  ]:)uek  was  a  uioh  of 
cattle  gi-azing.  Twice  I  ])ut  my  gun  to  my  slioulder  ;  twice  I 
refrained  fj'om  pulling  tiie  trigger.  It  was  not  so  much  tlie 
feai'  of  missing  the  animal  (though  witli  the  knowledge  of  those 
cattle  riglit  behind  I  sh.ould  not  h,;'Ac  Ixx'ii  su  ]:>!•! scd  if  I  had 
missed)  as  that  tlie  high  ex])losive  bullet  1  w;is  using  might  find 
yet  anotliei'  billet.  Eventually  I  lowcied  iny  gun.  deciding  that 
T  would  not  risk  it;  ])ut  that  confounded  biiclc  reniaiiied  stoc'k- 
still  stni'ingat  nie  !  I  belie\'e  the  .-inimal  A\as  ])('rl'e(,'tly  aAvai'c  of 
the  (juaiidary  T  was  ij^  ;  and.  furthei-.  knew  tliat  T  belonged  to  a 
rec'tiiting  ])a''ty  and  that  the  last  ihi]ig  to  hel])  oni-  nliins  Avas  to 
l)lot  out  a  nati\'e  ox.  At  hist  I  threw  a  stone  ,';t  the  buck  i;i 
d'sgust  and  blessed  it  briefly.  Avhc'T'On  it  languidly  tinned  its 
hcitd  aiid  vanished  ijito  the  reeds. 

During  1  liis  trel-:  back  to  T-^au  I  got  mv  fn'st  attack  of  injdai'ia, 
which  Avas  about  the  only  material  thing  I  got  out  of  the  tiip. 
Fe\ei  is  \'eiy  rift:  up  liere  during  the  I'aiiu'  season,  as  also  a 

296 


0lh      M^r- 


|!h  .    I  ',  \\|  !■;    I\     \i,  Wll  1    \\  h 


>Ki-:    \i'  \Mi  :    i  ( ik(i\(,    \    \\  \>-    I  UK, 


ALONG  OKAVANGO  AND  RETURN  TO  LAKE 

virulent  form  of  malaria,  the  blackwater  fever,  which  is  fatal 
in  so  many  cases. 

After  a  week  Brown  was  despatched  with  another  waggon— 
altogctlicr  too  heavily  laden — to  follow  up  my  brother.  Morgan 
blandly  assin-ed  him  that  he  would  be  at  Andara  under  a  fort- 
night, whei-eas  he  took  well  ovei-  a  month.  The  two  waggons — the 
one  with  my  brother  and  the  other  with  Brown- — being  now 
out  of  sight,  they  were  cojisequently  out  of  mind  also,  so  far  as 
our  leader  was  concerned.  He  had  quite  foi-gotten  the  small 
detail  that  he  had  promised  my  brother  to  follow  him  up  veiy 
s])eedily.  He  had  not  left  Tsau  when  I  started  my  i-eturn  trip  ; 
a]id  that  was  some  two  months  after. 

On  Brown's  departure  the  recruiter  returned  to  the  stadt, 
leaving  me  in  charge  of  the  remaining  waggons  and  the  live-stock. 
With  the  rains  had  come  the  dreaded  horse-siclviiess,  and  one 
bv  one  our  vouno'  horses  succumbed  to  the  disease.  It  was 
indeed  the  saddest  part  of  my  duties  to  watch  these  young 
hoi'ses,  now  in  splendid  condition,  struck  down  one  after  another 
])y  this  deadly  sickness.  The  first  mare  we  lost  died  in  a  most 
sudden  manner.  One  evening  just  before  sundowii,  when  all  the 
lioiscs  were  brought  in  from  the  veld  and  were  receiving  their 
evciiiug  feed  of  mealies,  I  noticed  one  mare  not  eating,  but 
eousidercd,  as  she  looked  so  fit,  that  she  had  eaten  her  fill  during 
[]\c  (lay.  Being  generally  accustomed  to  take  a  short  evening  ride, 
I  ordered  the  natives  to  catch  this  mare  and  saddle  hei"  up, 
tiiin^^iiig  tlie  exercise  would  do  her  good.  I  remarked  then  that 
she  gave  very  little  ti-ouble  whilst  being  handled  ;  as  a  rule  she 
was  very  skittish  and  fresh,  not  having  been  ridden  much.  I 
cantered  for  a  sho;t  distance,  but,  finding  hei"  very  listless,  I  off- 
-juld'ed  ]]cv.  She  was  perspiring  freely,  though  I  had  not  ridden 
her  l'a;-d.  llowcvei-,  beyond  ordering  the  native  to  walk  her  up 
;i;id  down  before  tying  her  up  to  the  line  I  paid  very  little 
<itteiition  to  tliis  fact,  -[iartieiilarly  as  the  mare  was  looking  so 
l';it.  She  Avas  stone  dead  at  ten  the  next  morning  !  The  foam 
j'oujid  her  nostrils  told  us  only  too  truly  the  disease  of  whieli  she 
had  died.  That  was  the  first  victim  to  horse-sickness,  which 

297 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

eventually  claimed  every  horse  we  brought  up  to  the  Lake  1 

Horsc-sickuess  is  a  form  of  pleuro-pneumonia  and  is  usually 
fatal.  The  percentage  of  deaths  in  the  Lake  Xgami  district  is 
nearly  ninety.  During  the  dry  season  horses  are  safe,  but  after 
the  first  dew  or  rain  the  dread  disease  makes  itself  felt.  Horse- 
sielcness  is  caused  by  a  germ  conveyed  to  the  animals  by  some 
insect — possibly  the  ubiquitous  mosquito.  The  germ  seems  to  be 
killed  by  the  first  frost,  and  till  the  next  rainy  season  the  horses 
of  the  district  are  immune  from  attack.  The  few  that  recover 
from  the  disease  are  to  a  great  extent  immune  from  a  second 
attack  and  are  so  termed  "  salted  " ;  a  "  salted  "  horse  is  worth 
nearly  three  times  as  much  as  it  was  before  an  attack. 

Donkeys  are  quite  immune  from  this  sickness,  vrhilst  mules 
are  to  some  extent.  It  is  only  among  horses  tliat  the  disease 
plays  such  havoc.  Inoculation  has  been  tried  on  both  horses 
and  mules,  l:)ut  up  to  now  with  little  success.  A  fortune  awaits 
the  veterinary  surgeon  who  discovers  some  successful  inoculation 
against  Avhat  is  perhaps  the  greatest  stock-devastating  disease 
with  wliich  Africa  has  yet  to  contend. 

Whilst  disease  was  decimating  our  horses,  the  fittest  of  them 
seeming  to  be  the  first  victims,  the  recruiter  remained  in  the 
stadt  recruiting.  What  I  did  not  know  !  Aftci'  a  series  of  false 
alarms  regarding  the  Makubas  who  were  going  to  be  collected 
(always  in  the  futuie  tense)  one  native  was  gathered  in  at  last. 
I  ascertained  afterwards  that  this  recruit  had  not  been  inspired 
by  any  deep  desire  to  work  in  the  mines,  but  l)y  the  fact  tliat 
his  Motawana  owner  was  looking  for  him  ;  and  that,  as  he 
antici])atcd  some  disagrecal,)Ie  moment-  coincident  witli  meeting 
him,  lie  had  tactfully  decided  to  find  another.  This  one  valual)le 
asset  was  all  we  had  up  to  now  to  show  for  six  months'  ti'ckking 
and  an  ex])C)uliture  of  nearly  four  thousand  })0unds.  I  strongly 
suggested,  tlicrefore,  that  tliis  recruit  should  be  sent  down  to 
Jo]ianne^l)urg  to  reassure  our  promoters,  who,  incidciitally,  had 
never  I'eplied  to  any  of  tlie  marvellous  elToits  of  literature  with 
whieli  ]\[oi'gan  had  ])eri()dieal]y  furnished  tht-m.  These  letters 
Used  invariably  to  inform  them  of  the  imminent  departure  of  a 

298 


ALOXCx  OKAVAXGO  AND  RETURN  TO  LAKE 

thousand  natives  for  the  Rand  (the  recruiter  never  talked  or 
thought  of  anything  under  thousands).  I  can  as  easily  picture 
the  joyous  faces  of  the  promoters  on  the  receipt  of  these  first 
letters  as  I  can  picture  their  anything  but  joyous  expressions 
when  only  bills  instead  of  boys  arrived.  They  did  realise 
eventually  that  the  thousand  natives  existed  only  in  the 
recruite]-'s  mind.  The  one  native  I  referred  to  had  his  right  arm 
withered,  a  fact  of  which  he  did  not  trouble  to  inform  jVIorgan 
till  after  being  contracted  ;  he  was  therefore  about  as  much  use 
for  a  mine  as  a  lawyer  is  for  the  Navy.  He  never  reached 
Johannesburg,  however  ;  he  eloped  one  dark  night  on  my  return 
trek.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  I  had  that  same  evening  caught  him 
stealing  my  limited  supply  of  sugar  and  had  booted  him 
emphatically  may  have  hastened  his  dcpaiiure. 

The  conditions  prevailing  at  the  Lake  were  not  conducive  to 
any  i-ecruiting,  as  the  ]Makubas,  the  only  tribe  from  which  we 
could  hope  to  recruit,  are  more  or  less  the  personal  property 
of  the  Batawana,  and  these  latter  were  too  wise  to  let  their 
servants,  or  slaves  (the  former  designation  sounds  nicer  in 
British  territory),  out  of  their  hands.  The  Batawana,  though 
openly  passive  on  the  point,  circulated  all  sorts  of  ugly  rumours 
behind  our  backs.  Consequently  a  ]Makuba  would  almost  fly  at 
the  sight  of  us.  The  chief  was  sympathetically  disposed  to 
the  recruiting  of  some  of  the  Makubas,  but  his  power  with  the 
natives  at  the  Lake  was  practically  nil,  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
hrm  control  maintained  by  the  former  chief,  though  a  usurper. 

Nothing  exciting  occurred  whilst  I  was  in  charge  at  tlie  camp 
outside  Tsau,  except  an  occasional  ride  into  the  stadt,  where  I 
used  to  s])cnd  some  pleasant  hours  at  tlie  police  camp,  which 
included  the  R.^M.'s  quarters  and  also  those  of  the  doctor. 

Lake  Ngami  does  not  as  a  rule  sport  a  permanent  doctor  ; 
the  white  inhabitants  do  not  exceed  twenty  in  number.  The 
disciple  of  /Lsculapius,  who  was  then  resident  at  the  Lake,  had 
been  sent  tliere  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  whether  sleeping 
sickness  was  present  in  Ngamiland  or  not,  certain  disquieting 
rumours  concerning  the  presence  of  this  disease  in  the  territory 

299 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

linvinfi'  rcncliod  tlic  ears  of  tlic  aiitlioi-itics  at  ^Nrafokiiig.  Beyond 
llio  j'af'i  tliat  1lic  (loclf)r  (]isco\'ciT(!  ilic  oTcatcr  part  (^f  tlio 
iiati\Ts,  andqui I (■  a  icw  of  the  \\iiites  also,  had  a  distinct  tendcnfy 
to  tin's  disease  in  tliat  tlie  syni])toni  of  l)ei]ig  always  tiicnl  was 
sti'ongly  ]n'onoiineed.  the  result  of  his  investigations  was  that 
Xganiiland  was  free  of  the  niierol)e  ^In.s'suui  palpalis,  which. 
conveys  the  germs  of  sleeping  sickness. 

The  ]:)ei'inanent  doctor  !  at  the  Lake,  the  medical  ordei'ly  of 
the  1).]^.P..  gave  n])  ]:)i'actice  'whilst  I  ^\as  tlieix-.  having  been 
engaged  by  oni-  genial  leader,  ^vhose  hobby  it  was  to  hire 
])eo]:)le  at  fabnlons  salai'ies.  T  think  most  of  the  residents  in  that 
])art  of  ]?eehnanaland  j'cceived  h.andsome  oj'fers  f  I'om  [Morgan  ; 
in  fact,  I  ain  not  sure  whether  the  R.^M.  In'mself  did  not  receive 
a  tr'm])tinii;  though  ephemeral  offei-.  All.  save  the  Pi'ofessor, 
as  he  was  l-;nown.  had  the  s-avnir-iairc  !:o  declin.e  wifh  thanks. 
The  Profcssoi'  was  riuite  a  chai'aeler  at  the  Lake  adid  iwsscssed 
a  patriarchal  bcaid  whei'cwith  to  hide  a,  somewhat  doubtful 
chin,  lie  was  engaged  to  doctoi-  the  thousands  of  natives  who 
wei'C  to  ce)me  from  Angola,  and  he  eondesceiuledto  infoi'm  me — • 
a  mei'c  I'ecruiter's  assistant — that  it  Avas  his  inteniion  to  set  u]> 
amongst  tlie  Ovambos.  failing  that — in  Harley  Sii'cet  !  As  he 
liad  nearlv  killed  two  of  the  residents  in  'J\au.  1  am  wondering 
at  the  moment  whetluM'  tlie  Professor  or  the  Ovambos  liaA'c  been 
move  suecessfid  in  their  respective  cui-es.  lie  dc])ai'ted  from 
the  Lake  amid  the  mom-mng  ol'  grateful  ])atients. 

"Wlicu  not  at  the  ])olice  cam])  I  would  l)e  i]i  ojie  of  th.e  stores. 
whei'C  1  Avas  bound  to  find  ^lorgan.  Incidenially  a.ho  I  ^^"ould 
be  regaled  with  the  latest  low-down  methods  th.at  rival  tia.ders 
had  em]:)loved.  ihf-  insinuatir)ji  of  course  beingthat  my  informant 
was  the  only  one  that  Avould  not  stoo])  to  such  de])t]is  of 
dej)ra^'itv.  'I'liere  aie  ihi'ce  store's  in  T-.au.  the  la''g(-.f  being  the 
Heciiuanalaiid  Tradinu'  As-.ocial  icMi.  This  c()m]jauy  has  many 
branches  in  the  Prot  cet  orade.  'J'lic  manager  in  'i'^au  wa-^  con- 
s])ieuous  thia'c  as  b(-ing  a  hont  the  onlx'  trader  'who  had  a  rndi- 
menla'.v'  ifica  of  business.  TIk-  other  two  stores  \v(M'e  ])ri\'ately 
owned,  and  one  of  them  you  would  ha\'e  thougjif  was  at  least 

-l()0 


ALONG  OKAVANGO  AND  EETUBN  TO  LAKE 

fmaiiccd  by  the  Rothschilds  from  the  remarks  that  went  floating 
about  the  store.  Bluff  seemed  to  be  its  foundation  stone. 

Having  located  ^Morgan  in  one  of  the  three  stores,  cither 
squatting  on  the  counter  recruiting — bills,  or  playing  cards,  1 
Avould  put  to  him  the  usual  question,  "Well,  when  am  I  going 
to  get  away  ?  "  and  by  way  of  answer,  I  would  generally  be 
regaled  with  an  account  of  some  weiid  and  marvellous  scheme 
his  fertile  brain  was  hatching.  At  times  I  would  almost  become 
enthusiastic  over  the  scheme,  till  juy  conmion-sense  would  tell 
me  it  was  wholly  impracticable.  His  persuasive  tongue  could 
even  dam  the  cold  stream  of  reason. 

Thus  things  went  on.  Days  and  weeks  passed  with  no  change 
in  our  position.  The  horses  died  one  by  one,  till  we  had  lost  more 
than  half  our  original  stock. 

When  any  horse  succumbed,  crowds  of  aasvogels  (vultures) 
would  be  on  the  spot  not  many  minutes  afterwards,  and,  unless 
the  women  of  the  stadt  got  there  iirst,  would  pick  the  skeleton 
clean  in  a  few  hours.  The  remarkable  thing  about  these  aasvogels 
is  their  extreme  acuteness  of  either  vision,  hearing  or  scent  ; 
it  is  rather  hard  to  say  which.  If  you  shoot  a  buck  it  will  not  be 
long  before  the  cloudless  sky  is  darkened  with  numbers  of  these 
birds,  which  will  gather  round,  sitting  motionless  on  the  branches 
of  the  trees  awaiting  their  share.  Even  when  an  animal  dies  a 
natural  death — with  no  gun  report — it  remains  undiscovered 
for  but  a  very  short  time.  This  rather  suggests  that  it  is  the 
acuteness  of  their  vision  that  is  responsible  for  theii'  presence. 
They  probably  watch  the  movements  of  the  leader,  A\ho  is  not 
so  hig])  in  the  heavens.  It  is  hard  to  say  for  certain. 

Ilyycnas  also  began  to  take  a  more  than  usual  interest  in  our 
camp;  the  dead  bodies  of  our  poor  hoi-ses,  so  I'apidly increasing 
in  mimber,  attracted  these  marauders  whose  howls  wci-e  to  be 
heaid  every  night.  Judging  by  an  experience  of  mine,  they  too 
nmst  be  gifted  with  very  acute  senses.  It  was  shortly  after 
sundown  when  I  heard  the  distant  howl  of  a  hyyena  coming,  as  I 
icckoned,  to  the  carcass  of  a  horse  that  had  not  long  been  dead. 
As  the  body  lay  not  far  from  the  camp,  I  decided  to  1 1'v  to  get 


A  AVAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

a  shot  at  my  visitor.  I  crept  silently  through  the  veld  and  took 
up  a  position  in  the  shadow  of  a  fallen  tree  and  waited — and 
that  is  all  I  did  !  AVhether  the  hyaena  winded  nie  or  whether 
some  almost  imperceptible  movement  on  my  part  betrayed  my 
presence,  I  Icnow  not.  All  I  do  IvJiow  is  that  I  wasted  an  hour 
fruitlessly  on  the  damp  veld.  Swarms  of  flying  ants  came  along 
periodically.  They  would  anive  in  clouds,  after  a  heavy  fall  of 
i-ain  in  the  evening,  and  having  dropped  their  wings — ^not  being 
at  all  particulai-  as  to  where  they  dropped  them — they  would 
then  proceed  to  crawl  away.  The  natives  used  to  eat  all  they 
could  lay  tlieii-  hands  on,  a  dish  of  flying  ants  being  considered 
quite  a  delicacy.  What  with  flying  ants,  mosquitoes,  doses  of 
fever  at  intervals,  the  thrilling  occupation  of  doing  nothiiig  but 
watch  horses  die,  I  was  getting  heartily  tired  of  this  inactivity 
and  pined  to  be  on  trek  again. 

Whilst  camped  here  I  had  the  opportunity  of  pi'oving  what  I 
had  heard  many  times — -the  uneri'ing  instinct  of  a  Jiorse  to  find 
its  way — granting,  of  course,  certain  favourable  conditions. 
The  occasion  was  on  my  return  to  the  camp  after  one  of  my 
periodical  visits  to  the  stadt.  I  had  left  rather  later  than  usual 
and  it  was  neaj'ly  dark  before  I  started.  Theie  Avere  two  or  three 
different  roads  out  of  the  stadt  and  I  took  the  wi'ong  one,  my 
horse  starting  off  at  a  hand  gallop  in  her  anxiety  to  get  to  her 
evening  feed.  I  imrst  have  gone  foi'  a1)Out  a  mile  before  1  noticed 
the  road  I  was  on  was  leading  to  swampy  ground.  Instead  of 
retracing  my  step^,  1  cut  through  the  bush  at  an  angle  to  my  left. 
It  was  Jiow  quite  dark.  1  kept  on  steadily  in  this  diieclion  for 
about  an  hour,  till  1  became  doubtful  as  to  whether  I  was  not 
going  too  far  above  the  eamji.  I  therefore  dropped  my  rein  and 
left  it  to  my  horse  to  decide.  Witlicmt  a  moment's  hesitation  she 
turned  off  the;  small  tj'aek  1  wa-  Jollowing  and  went  straight  into 
the  buslu  forciiig  her  ^vay  tluough  tlioi']i  bush  and  undei-  ovei - 
hanging  boughs  of  trees,  quite  regardless  of  hci'  rider.  Most  of 
the  time  I  h;id  to  eroucli  low  on  lier  neck,  protecting  my  faec' 
^vitil  ni\  ai'Jii  J'l'oni  tlu'  llioins  ;  uiicv  I  was  dragged  e(jjn]jletely 
out  of  tlif  ^addle  !)>'  a  bj'aueh  and  had  ojiJy  iime  lo  gi'<i^p  the 

^02 


z\LOXG  OKAVANGO  AND   RETURN  TO    LAKE 

reins  to  prevejit  the  frightened  animal  from  bolting.  When  after 
half-an-hour  or  more  no  sign  of  the  camp  was  forthcoining,  I 
dismounted  to  ascertain  if  the  horse  knew  the  way  to  the  pi-esent 
camp,  as  we  had  recently  shifted  some  little  distance  owing  to 
the  scarcity  of  water.  ]Mounting,  I  turned  her  in  quite  an  op])ositc 
direction  ;  then  again  I  dropped  the  reins.  Immediately  the 
mare  turned  and  resumed  her  former  course  through  the  thick 
bush,  ignoring  cattle  ti-acks  and  native  paths,  which  told  me  she 
was  as  equally  anxious  to  get  to  her  supper  as  I  was.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  welcome  lights  of  the  camp  fires  were  visible 
through  the  trees  and  the  camp  was  readied.  After  seeing  my 
mare  busily  crunching  her  mealies,  I  spent  ten  minutes  picking 
thorns  out  of  my  sldn. 

On  the  fifth  of  December  the  rest  of  the  waggons  witli  the  few 
remaining  horses  (which  subsequently  died)  were  despatched  to 
Kurube,  for  the  grazing  there  was  richer.  I  was  now  homeless, 
save  for  my  tent  and  horse.  Like  a  wandei-ing  Arab  I  moved 
my  abode,  this  time  migi-ating  into  tlie  stadt.  I  ]iitched  my  tent 
near  the  police  camp  with  a  small  river  close  by.  It  was  decidedly 
a  pleasant  spot,  if  mihealthy. 

Our  recruiting  efforts,  beyond  the  one  ''  coon  "  already  men- 
tioned, had  met  with  not  a  particle  of  success.  However,  at  that 
particular  moment  news  reached  us  that  a  large  party  of 
Damaras  had  been  successful  in  crossing  the  German  border 
and  were  in  tlie  long  stretch  of  desert  that  separated  the  Lake 
disti-Jct  from  the  borders  of  Damaraland,  waiting  for  the  vleis 
to  lill  up  with  the  rains  which  down  to  then  had  not  been 
plentiful.  To  reach  them  it  meant  a  week's  trek  through  a 
waterless  desert.  ^Morgan  with  admirable  promptitude  arranged 
for  a  water  cart  to  go  out  to  bring  the  party  through  the  desert  ; 
a  good  stock  of  food  was  also  provided,  as  wc  heard  the  refugees 
were  only  living  on  roots  and  on  any  small  animals  thev  could 
kill. 

After  a  period  of  three  weeks  these  natives  reached  T.^a,u,  and 
a  more  dilapidated,  nondescript  crowd  of  mi.serable  humanity 
I  never  set  eyes  on  before  !  The  poor  starved  wretches  had  been 

303 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

living  for  months  on  roots  and  ant-bears.  They  were  all  ]3racti- 
cally  nude,  save  foi-  a  few  rough  skins  round  their  loins.  What 
with  tlic  fear  of  the  German  police  on  one  side  and  the  pitiless 
desert  on  the  other,  they  had  led  a  miserable  existence  and 
numbers  of  them  iiad  died.  They  told  us  the  German  ]jolice 
on  many  occasions  had  not  Iresitatcd  to  cross  the  border  to 
rccaptuie  them.  This  fact  is  not  sur}n-i,^ing,  seeing  that  no  one 
in  the  Protectorate  has  any  idea  where  the  border  is  and  north 
of  Rietfontein  a  mounted  policeman  is  never  seen. 

We  eontiacted  forty-seven  men  of  the  party  for  tliC  mines 
without  any  demur  on  their  part,  as  they  1-aicw  their  chief, 
Samuel  Maheicro,  and  othei's  of  their  tribe  were  in  the  Transvaal. 
Our  interpreter,  too.  had  not  been  born  the  day  before  !  As  the 
men  would  not  trek  without  tlieir  families,  we  had  to  arrange 
that  the  whole  ]:)arty — -men,  women  and  children — should  trek 
to  Palapye.  Some  of  tlie  men  had  more  than  one  wife  ;  so  with 
these  we  arranged  t(j  soi't  them  out,  so  that  each  man  had  only 
one  wife,  the  expense  of  trekking  for  the  wife  being  charged  to 
the  appointed  husband. 

We  tlien  started  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements  for  my 
return  trek  ;  and  liere  again  the  recruiter  distinguished  himself 
by  purchasing  an  old  broken-down  waggon,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  tliat  there  were  fom-  sound  waggons  lying  idle  in  various 
])artsof  the  district.  Tliis  \vaggon  is  jiow  rotting  in  the  Kalahari 
desert  and  was  i'es]M_)nsible  for  the  dis])ersal  of  all  those  con- 
tracted natives.  It  was  about  lit  for  lirewood.  one  of  the  wheels 
being  in  a  mo>t  ]irccarious  condition. 

At  this  juncture  I  received  a  letter  from  my  Iji'otherat  Andara, 
askijig  when  the  reci-uiter  ^vas  coming  u]),  and  informing  me  iliat 
he  was  hving  on  native  food,  all  liis  pro\'isions  being  exhausted, 
and  that  every  one  of  lliem  was  down  Avitli  malaria  ^v]lich  was 
]'ife  iji  the  stadt.  He  added  in  a  })ostseri]jt  that  he  v.as  con- 
templating an  innncdiate  rcUii-Ji.  iis  he  could  nol  justify  liie 
unendino-  delav  to  the  natives,  who  were;  sim])l\-  out  ol'  hand,  and 
that  it  was  idle  to  continue  wasting  one's  timt'  iji  tnis  maimer. 

(A  moiith  alter  my  de})arlurc  my  brothei'  severed  all  cojuiec- 

oU4 


ALONG  OKAVANGO  AND  RETURN  TO  LAKE 

tion  with  the  expedition,  covered  the  distance  from  the 
Portuguese  border  to  the  Lake  on  horseback  and  returned  by 
a  native  waggon  to  Palapye.) 

Notwithstanding  that  the  natives  were  all  contracted,  delay 
after  delay  occurred.  Though  we  had  been  in  the  stadt  for  weeks, 
when  the  moment  to  leave  arrived  there  was  not  a  bag  of  grain 
to  be  obtained,  or  a  span  of  oxen  for  the  waggon,  although  I 
hud  been  repeatedly  assured  that  ever3i:hing  was  arranged  for 
immediate  departure. 

To  cap  this,  notwithstanding  my  most  urgent  recommenda- 
tions, supported  by  those  of  our  head-boy,  Philip,  that  the  natives 
should  be  kept  on  short  rations  whilst  not  trekking,  as  it  was 
impossible  to  feed  them  in  a  similar  manner  on  the  veld,  the 
recruiter,  in  spite  of  our  protests,  supplied  them  with  all  the  food 
they  wanted,  again  making  a  bid  for  cheap  popularity  regardless 
of  consequences.  The  very  thing  I  wanted  to  avoid  was  the  very 
thing  that  happened— discontent,  with  incessant  grumblings, 
and  numerous  desertions  on  trek. 

Perhaps  the  culmination  of  the  recruiter's  folly  was  to  engage 
as  foreman  for  these  contracted  Damaras  the  biggest  loafer 
he  could  hnd  in  the  stadt,  a  man  with  a  stiff  price  on  his  head 
for  some  cold-blooded  mui'ders  in  Damaraland.  To  make  matters 
worse,  he  undermined  my  authority  by  telling  this  native, 
Schmidt,  that  lie  was  the  boss,  and  that  it  was  a  mere  Govern- 
ment formality  that  a  white  man  accompanied  the  natives  at  all. 
Of  this,  of  course,  I  had  no  knowledge  at  the  time. 

Christmas  Day  found  us  still  in  the  midst  of  aimless  prepara- 
tions. The  day  I  spent  at  the  police  camp  and  in  the  evening 
I  joined  a  pleasant  party  a,t  the  Resident  Magistrate's  quarters, 
and  we  all  spent  an  enjoyable  time.  On  the  following  day- 
Boxing  Day — tJie  Tsau  races  were  held.  Besides  horse-races, 
all  kinds  of  other  competitions  had  been  arranged  by  the  tradcis 
for  tlie  amusement  of  the  participatoi's — the  natives — and  the 
spectators.  Foot-races,  bullock  and  obstacle  races,  caused 
considerable  anmsement.  The  Tsau  handicap  was  a  masteipiece 
in  itself.    The  chief's  horse,  ridden  by  the  chief  himself  in  a 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

discoloured  jockey  gaib,  was  hopelessly  behind.  Nevertheless 
he  won  ;  though  not  till  after  some  most  masterly  exhibitions 
of  pulling  on  the  part  of  other  riders.  One  need  not,  however, 
trek  to  Tsau  to  witness  that.  Germiston  and  Turffontein  will 
provide  you  with  all  the  illustrations  of  this  you  may  desire. 

I  spent  my  last  evening  at  the  police  camp,  and  on  leaving 
I  lost  my  way  through  the  sea  of  huts.  A  native  stadt  is  worse 
than  Hampton  Court  ]Mazc.  Even  I'csidcnts  of  long  standing  not 
unf  requcntly  lose  their  way  on  a  dai'k  night,  and  not  necessarily 
because  a  vaatje  of  dop  has  just  rolled  up  from  below. 

On  the  third  of  Jjuuiary — my  twenty-fifth  birthday — I  in- 
s])anncd  and  trekked  out  of  the  stadt,  the  waggon  heavily  laden 
with  grain.  It  was  followed  by  the  motley  crowd  of  natives 
— men,  women  and  children — nearly  150  in  number.  I  do  not 
think  that  tlie  residents  of  Tsau  will  foj-get  in  a  liui-i  y  tliat  long 
line  of  di]a])!dated  humanity  streaming  out  of  the  stadt,  the 
men  armed  with  spears,  the  women  cari'ying  ])ots  and  pans  of 
all  shapes,  from  the  relic  of  an  old  bath  tub  to  the  I'cmains 
of  a  kciosene  oil  tin — .their  loins  girded,  but  nothing  more. 

It  was  with  a  full  presentiment  of  the  troubles  in  store  that 
I  started  on  my  lonely  trip  to  civilisation. 


306 


"■    '        j«« 

r 

%  ■    ■■ 

X 

-V 

-" 

^-^A-/-"' 

- 

I 

t^%;' 

^E  :^'^ - 

CHAPTER  X 

TROUBLES  ON  MY  RETURN  TREK 

ON  outspanning  I  sat  by  the  fire  long  into  the  night.  The 
httle  fires  around  mc  died  out  one  by  one  and  soon  the 
noise  and  chatter  of  the  natives  gave  place  to  the  all- 
pci'vading  stillness.  Though  glad  to  be  once  again  on  trek,  I  was 
in  no  cheerful  spirits.  Contemplation  of  the  disastrous  failure  of 
the  ^vliole  scheme  of  which  at  one  time  I  had  been  so  sanguine, 
the  presentiment  of  the  innumerable  troubles  and  worries  ahead 
and  a  general  feeling  of  lassitude,  the  result  of  periodical  attacks 
of  fever,  combined  to  create  a  feeling  of  deep  depression.  It  was 
not  far  from  dawn  when  I  slept. 

We  inspanncd  early  in  the  morning  and  made  a  long  trek  to 
]Moopooti  Drift.  As  the  interpreter  engaged  to  accompany  us 
had  not  yet  turned  up,  I  had  some  little  difficulty  in  making 
the  foi-eman,  Schmidt,  understand  my  wishes — namely,  that  all 
tiie  natives  were  to  go  ahead,  my  idea  being  that  if  any  should 
become  sick  they  could  be  picked  up  by  the  waggon.  The  natives, 
liowevcr,  seemed  to  be  possessed  with  a  dogged  spirit  of  contrari- 
ness in  this  respect,  being  loath  to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  waggon 
by  going  ahead,  though  perfectly  ready  on  any  pretext  to  straggle 
Ijchiiid.  The  foreman  apparently  interpreted  his  duty  as  that  of 
sitting  on  the  waggon  and  doing  nothing  but  add  his  weight  to 
the  burden  tlic  oxen  had  to  pull.  The  driver  of  the  waggon  had 
been  hired  by  iMorgan  at  the  ridiculous  wage  of  three  pounds  a 
montli  (having  been  before  in  the  employ  of  a  storekeeper  in 
Tsau  al  a  wage  of  fifteen  shillings  a  month,  and  well  paid  at 
that).  He  managed  to  smash  the  tent  of  the  waggon  in  tlie  second 
trek.  If  it  had  been  the  dry  season  I  should  not  have  minded  so 
nmeli,  but  the  rains  were  now  more  or  less  steady  ;    so  I  was 

307 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

pretty  wroth  at  this  act  of  carelessness  and  promptly  dismissed 
him,  returning  him  to  the  recruiter  with  a  brief  note  to  the 
effect  that  again  I  could  not  congratulate  him  on  his  selection 
of  drivci's.  Tliis,  the  reader  will  recall,  was  a  repetition  of  my 
former  experience  when  leaving  the  Mukwe. 

A  long  ti-ek  brought  us  to  a  native  cattle-post  shortly  after 
sundown.  Here  the  foreman  came  to  me  with  a  long  yarn  that 
certain  sick  natives  were  behind  and  that  it  would  be  better  if  I 
stopped  a  day  to  await  their  arrival.  Knowing,  howevei-,  by  now 
the  trickery  of  the  Domaras,  I  perceived  clearly  that  the  real 
pretext  was  to  gain  anotlier  day  to  loaf  at  this  cattle-post  among 
tlieir  fricjids  ;  so  I  turned  a  deaf  car  to  this  story  and  stroiigly 
reprimanded  Schmidt  for  not  carrying  out  my  instructions  to 
keep  the  natives  ahead  of  the  waggon.  At  dayljreak  I  inspaujied 
and  puslied  on,  leaving  the  natives  to  follow  on,  knowing  full 
well  that  empty  stomachs  would  soon  draw  them  after  the  waggon 
which  contained  their  food.  I  reached  Totin  in  the  evening  and 
outspanned  by  the  police  camp.  I  spent  a  pleasant  evening  with 
the  N.C.O.  stationed  thei-e.  lie  was  a  most  entertaining  fellow, 
having  been  in  liis  younger  days  a  nieni])er  of  the  London 
]\Ict  ropo]  itan  Police.  Many  a  West  End  cafe  we  visited  that  night. 

I  Ic'viJ'nt  that  just  before  my  arrival  a  lion  had  been  shot  iji  a 
small  village  close  by,  so  1  went  out  dui'ing  the  day  to  tiy  to 
secure  the  skin,  1)ut  found  it,  as  is  gcnei'ally  the  case,  completely 
spoilt  by  the  speai's  of  tlie  Jiatives.  A  bullet  had  killed  it,  but  the 
natives  in  tlieii-  ti'iuniph  had  stabbed  away  at  the  fallen  beast 
till  the  skin  was  in  strips. 

The  River  BotleLle  had  noNv  sunk  to  i  ts  normal  level  again  and 
I  liad  no  dilFiculty  in  fording.  The  bags  of  grain  were  taken  from 
the  waggon  and  conveyed  to  the  opposite  bank  in  a  dug-out  ; 
the  em])ty  waggon  was  then  pulled  through  by  the  s])an  of  oxen. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  I  i'eccived  a  message  from 
Schmidt  that  some  of  the  natives  were  too  sick  to  eoine  on  and 
they  wanted  the  waggon  to  return.  As  all  the  natives  a  few  days 
pi'c\'ious  to  OTU'  depaitui'e  Jiad  ()eeii  examined  by  the  doctor  at 
the  Lake  and  had  been  pronounced  sound  aiid  lit  for  tiekking,  1 

jo6 


Ai;i>ri     I'o  iRds^ 


i 


SiS^r'--^^r7».j' 


\l-:  \KI   N'      I'll  K 


TROUBLES  ON  IMY  RETURN  TREK 

re])lied  briefly  that  the  sick  ones  could  stay  where  they  were 
and  the  otliers  had  better  come  on  quickly.  I  deduced  from 
this  that  the  foreman  had  practically  no  authoi-ity  over  the 
natives,  which  warned  me  only  too  truly  of  the  weeks  of  worry 
and  trouble  iji  store  for  me.  In  fact,  it  was  just  touch  and  go  that 
I  did  not  return  to  Tsau  then  and  there,  sever  my  connection 
witli  the  scatter-brained  recruiter  and  leave  him  to  his  own 
devices.  After  consideration  I  decided  to  see  the  thing  through — 
and  was  sorry  immediately  afterwards. 

On  the  following  day  all  the  natives  straggled  in  save  two.  I 
allowed  them  only  one  day  to  rest  before  we  resumed  our  trek, 
for  I  could  affoi'd  but  very  little  time,  as  the  grain  I  had  was 
Just  sufficient  to  reach  Rhakops. 

From  Totin  in  the  rainy  season  there  are  two  routes  to 
Rhako])s  ;  one  along  the  river  (the  way  we  had  come),  and  the 
other  through  the  Heina  Veld,  which  lies  to  the  south  of  the 
river.  This  ^'cld  in  the  dry  season  is  a  waterless  desert,  but 
during  the  j'ains  it  is  possible  to  trek  through,  as  many  of  the 
vJeis  there  retain  water.  To  get  through  means  a  week's  hard 
trekking  at  the  best  of  times.  January  as  a  rule  is  not  too  early 
for  ti'ekking,  though  I  had  been  advised  by  those  in  Tsau  not 
to  risk  it  as  the  rains  up  to  then  had  been  very  scanty.  It  had 
})ecn,  therefore,  my  intention  to  go  down  by  the  river  road,  till 
I  was  rather  foolishly  persuaded  by  Schmidt  to  go  via  the  Heina, 
He  urged  on  me  the  fact  that  tiie  natives  were  used  to  "  thii'sts," 
Avliilst  the  river  area  would  be  bound  to  make  many  of  them 
sick  with  fever.  Further,  both  he  ond  Natal  (my  interpreter) 
^v]lo  knew  this  Lake  road  well,  said  the  pans  in  the  desert  were 
bound  to  liave  water  in  them  by  now.  A  heavy  thundei'storm 
at  Totin  and  the  siglit  of  black  rainclouds  over  the  Quelle  Hills 
couiirmed  me  in  my  decision,  altliough  it  was  against  my 
]>revious  intentions  ;  I  had,  however,  an  inward  conviction  that 
I  was  doing  the  wrong  thing — and  so  indeed  I  was  !  One  fact 
reassured  me  :  leading  from  Quebe  Flills  back  to  the  river  there 
was  n.n  old  waggon  road  by  which,  if  unable  to  cross  the  desert,  I 
could  regain  the  river  area  without  having  to  reti'ace  my  steps. 

309 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

At  sunrise  we  started.  Ours  was  the  first  waggon  of  the  season 
to  take  this  route,  so  no  waggon  spoor  was  visible  and  the  oxen- 
traek  was  considerably  overgrown.  ]\Iucli  of  the  ground  was 
flooded  by  the  recent  heavy  rains  ;  this  reassured  me  somewhat 
and  revived  in  me  hopes  that  the  pans  in  the  Heina  might  have 
some  water  in  them. 

We  made  three  long  treks  that  day,  outspanning  for  the 
night  at  about  nine  o'clock,  as  far  as  one  was  able  to  calculate 
the  time.  A  watch  is  a  more  or  less  useless  article  on  tlie  veld, 
the  sun,  moon  and  stars  being  one's  guide.  We  had  come 
through  much  thick  bush  and  the  sand  was  very  heavy,  conse- 
quently it  had  been  hard  work  for  the  oxen  to  cut  a  track 
thi'ough.  The  waggon  was  also  very  heavy,  as  it  contained  some 
three  thousand  pounds  of  grain,  as  well  as  half-a-dozen  sick  or 
malingering  natives  on  it.  ]\Iuch  game  spoor  was  visible,  chiefly 
wildebcestc  and  impalla  ;  small  buck  spoor  and  that  of  wild 
pig  were  also  numerous. 

At  sunrise  our  caravan  was  on  the  move  again  and  we  made 
a  Ions  morning  trek.  The  soil  iiow  chano'cd.  the  heavv  sand  and 
thick  bush  giving  place  to  stony  ground  sti'cwn  with  boulders  ; 
some  large  trees,  especially  the  ]?a.obab.  were  noticeable.  The 
stony  and  uneven  ground  made  it  even  more  trying  for  the 
oxen,  and  I  had  ever  in  my  mind  the  fear  of  the  rickety  front 
wheel  breaking. 

We  outspanned  in  the  Quebe  Hills  towards  noon,  after  a 
stee])ish  ])ull  up  the  rising  ground.  These  hills  are  oiic  of  the  few 
isolated  groups  of  outcrop  to  be  found  on  the  Kalahari.  At  the 
foot  of  ma!iy  of  these  hills  numbers  of  large  Baobab  trees  grew, 
some  being  of  huge  girth. 

On  our  ai'i'ival  thej-e  I  ordered  certain  natives  to  l)c  despatched 
to  the  nearest  pans  to  aseci'tain  whether  tliey  held  any  water. 
I  further  instructed  these  natives  to  bring  to  the  cani]i  any 
wandering  bushmen  they  miglit  come  across,  as  I  hoj^cd  to  learn 
from  these  walking  eneyclopa-dias  of  veld  lore  how  lieavy  the 
rains  had  been  in  the  Heina. 

A  violent  thunderstorm  b!'oke  over  the  hills  that  night,  the 

310 


TROUBLES  ON  MY   RETURN  TREK 

lightning  playing  with  great  brilliancy  on  the  quartz  kopjes. 
Wc  took  the  precaution  of  unfastening  the  trek-ch;)in  from  the 
waggon,  the  foi-nier  lacing  ever  a  dangerous  attraction  for  the 
electricity.  It  is  no  very  rare  occurrence  for  a  whole  span  of  oxen 
to  be  struck  dead  by  a  flash,  the  electric  current  having  struck 
the  trek-chain  with  fatal  results. 

Some  of  the  natives  were  getting  sick,  the  continual  I'ains 
wetting  them  through  and  through.  I  did  what  I  could  for  them, 
which  chiefly  consisted  of  looking  wise,  taking  their  tempera- 
tures with  a  clinical  thermometer  (which  I  tcld  them  informed 
me  infallibly  as  to  whether  they  were  malingering  or  not)  and 
dosing  them  with  Epsom  salts.  Epsom  salts  was  my  panacea 
for  everytliing  from  a  swollen  head  to  blackwater  fever. 

About  noon  on  the  following  day  the  two  Damaras  returned 
with  tlie  news  that  they  had  been  unable  to  find  any  pans  at  all 
in  the  veld,  or  l^ushmen  either,  but  that  the  grass  everywhere 
was  very  green  ajid  the  ground  very  moist.  I  decided  on  hearing 
this  to  risk  it.  It  was  not  of  the  oxen  that  I  was  anxious  ;  fo]-, 
by  careful  arrangement  of  treks  so  as  to  give  the  cattle  every 
opportunity  of  grazing  Avhen  the  grass  was  wet  with  dew  or 
rain,  I  felt  eoniident  of  getting  through  safely,  even  if  we  came 
on  no  pans  at  all  with  water  in  them.  I  was  concerned  foi-  the 
party  of  natives  in  my  charge  ;  for  I  had  no  wish  to  leave  co]'pses 
behind  as  a  souvenir  of  my  trip. 

I  thereupon  assembled  all  the  natives  of  the  party  together 
and  spoke  to  tliem  through  my  interpreter.  I  told  them  that 
they  had  a  three  days'  hard  trek  before  them  if  there  was  no 
water  in  the  veld  ;  that  they  must  therefore  walk  and  not  loaf  ; 
tliat  tlioy  must  bcb.ave  like  men  and  n^ot  like  children.  I  ordei'cd 
them  to  cook  before  their  departure  thi'ce  days'  food  and  to  fill 
u])  cvfM'v  availal)le  pot  and  pan  with  wntei'.  Haxing  asked  them 
if  t])(-y  liad  anything  to  say,  and  rcceivin.g  tlic  response  that 
they  had  n(rthing,  I  dismissed  them  to  their  task  of  getting 
eveiytl'iiig  icady  for  the  trek. 

Tlie  nati\  es  started  at  two  o'clock  the  next  day.  thougli  not 
without  mueli  delay  on  their  part  on  fir.->t  one  pi'ctext  and  tlien 

^'.11 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

anotlier,  t'll  my  patience  was  well-nigh  exliaustcd.  When  the 
last  man  was  out  of  sight  I  gave  oiders  not  to  in'^pan  tlie  waggon 
till  sundown,  as  I  wanted  the  natives  to  get  well  rJiend. 

The  sun  had  all  but  sunk  wlien  our  wagnon  started  rumbling 
over  the  boulders  and  stones  through  the  kopjes.  We  had  not 
trekked  more  than  a  mile  l)efore  we  eame  on  the  whole  party 
of  natives,  foreman  and  all,  squatting  on  their  haunches  !  For  a 
moment  I  nearly  saw  red.  I  never  before  experienced  such  a 
revulsion  of  feeling  or  such  an  intensity  of  rage.  In  a  flash  it 
all  passed  through  my  brain — the  uselessness  of  my  planning, 
sehemiiig,  or  worrying  about  these  craven  eui's.  I  reflected 
bitterly  upon  the  foreman's  lack  of  authority  and  his  selection 
by  the  recruiter  ;  if  ever  eai's  tingled  at  tliat  moment  they  wei'c 
tho^e  of  our  scatter-brained  leader  in  Tsau.  One  or  two  of  the 
natives  caught  sight  of  my  face  at  that  moment — it  was  not 
pleasant  to  look  upon,  I  am  sure — and  slunk  away.  Beyond 
issuing  a  brief  oider  to  the  driver  to  turn  round  the  waggon  and 
return  to  the  hills  I  said  not  a  word.  ^Yal]cing  ahead,  I  realised 
the  hopelessness  of  attem])ti]ig  to  tix-k  with  tlie>e  nntives 
through  the  Heina  "thirst."  and  that  there  ^v^.s  onh'  the  one 
alternative  before  me,  that  of  I'cturning  to  tlu-  river. 

After  outspanning  I  gave  oixlei's  that  every  notive  was  to  be 
up  before  dawn  to  find  the  old  Lugard  road,^  which  led  to  the 
river.  I  ate  my  supper  that  night  in  gloomy  silence,  disgusted 
with  ever}i;hing  ;  if  I  had  only  had  someojie  to  whom  I  could 
have  talked  it  would  luu'e  been  some  ]-elief.  I  saw,  liowcver, 
that  woi-rying  would  not  help  matters,  so  I  resigned  myself  to 
the  inevitable.  The  rainy  day  had  given  place  to  a  most  perfect 
night.  The  stai's  were  shining  In  all  their  brillianex'  and  tlie  lai'ge 
trmiks  of  tlie  Baobab  trees  stood  out  like  giajits  near  tiie  out- 
spanned  waggon.  Nature  was  peaceful  enough  ;  but  Nature 
only.  Tlie  little  groups  of  natives  in  deep  and  excited  cojiversa- 
tion  s]jelt  trouble — it  came  ! 

It  was  not  till  the  sun  was  liigh  in  the  liCiivens  tliat  the  spoor 

'  So  named  after  Sir  Fresierick  Lu,-,MrcL  one  of  the  leaders  of  a  pro- 
specting company  which  ctit  this  road  to  the  river. 

'iI2 


TROUBLES  ON  MY  RETURN  TREK 

of  tlie  old  waggon  road  was  discovei-ed.  But  faint  indications  in 
the  thick  bush  were  left  of  the  track — disused  for  nearly  fifteen 
ye;irs — and  it  was  only  with  great  trouble  tliat  we  were  able  to 
follow  the  overgrown  road.  We  had  to  cut  away  much  bush  and 
cliop  down  many  overhanging  branches  of  trees.  A  span  of  oxen 
does  a  lot  to  make  a  way  for  the  waggon,  but  an  overhanging 
bough  has  to  be  cut  down  or  it  will  completely  break  the  waggon 
tent  ;  as  it  was,  before  we  reached  the  river  the  tent  of  the 
"waggon  was  a  wreck,  its  canvas  in  strips. 

The  veld  between  the  hills  and  the  river,  one  long  sand-belt, 
was  waterless.  I  had  very  meagre  information  as  to  the  number 
of  tieks  it  would  take  before  we  reached  water  ;  hence  I  decided 
to  trek  hard.  Again  I  oi'dered  the  foreman  to  see  that  every 
native  kept  ahead  of  the  waggon. 

We  ti-ekked  a  good  part  of  the  dull  and  cloudy  day.  Much. 
lieavy  rain  fell  at  times,  which  necessitated  our  stopping;  to 
trek  during  pouring  rain  means  sore  necks  for  the  oxen,  as  wet 
yokes  soon  raise  blisters. 

Most  of  the  time  I  spent  sitting  on  the  fi'ont  of  the  waggon 
guiding  the  hind  oxen  by  mouth  and  by  whip,  for  fear  the  front 
Avheel  would  come  to  grief  on  one  of  the  many  tree-stumps 
that  littered  the  overgrown  track.  What  would  have  been  the 
result  if  that  had  happened  I  did  not  care  to  contemplate. 
SufTicient  unto  the  day  then  was  the  worry  thereof  ! 

We  made  poor  progress  through  the  veld  as  the  impeding 
])ush  and  thoi'u  scrub  made  it  hard  work  for  the  oxen  to  force 
tlieir  way  through.  There  were,  further,  on  the  waggon,  adding 
their  weight  to  the  load  of  grain,  a  dozen  or  so  sick  natives,  half 
of  tlicm  malingerers.  Had  T,  though,  refused  to  allow  them  on  the 
waggon,  they  \n  turn  would  have  refused  to  trek — hence  I  was 
between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea  !  Those  raw  natives  had  by 
now  got  wise  to  the  fact  that  each  of  them  was  worth  so  much 
to  me,  and  this  only  tended  to  make  matters  more  difficult. 

The  foreman  was  almost  worse  than  useless  ;  notwithstanding 
my  repeated  exhortations  that  the  natives  should  all  keep  in 
front  of  tlie  waggon,  by  the  time  I  outspanned  foi'  the  night  I  was 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

informed  that  several  were  still  behind.  Since  the  cattle  had 
already  been  one  day  without  water  and  I  had  no  exact  idea  as 
to  whether  we  niiglit  reach  it  on  the  following  day,  I  refused  to 
delay  the  waggon  a  moment ;  for  I  was  not  going  to  let  the  poor 
dumb  animals  suffer  for  the  laziness  of  the  so-called  higher 
animals  in  my  charge.  I  consequently  inspanned  before  dawn 
and  trekked  hard  all  the  next  day.  When  outsponning  for  the 
night  we  felt  we  were  near  the  river,  tlie  distant  croaking  of  the 
frogs,  not  to  mention  the  confounded  mosquitoes,  testifying  to 
the  proximity  of  water. 

That  night  I  found  only  a  cupful  of  water  left  in  the  vaatje  of 
the  wao'o'on.  and  when  this  was  finished  I  never  felt  so  thirstv  in 
my  life,  though  the  night  was  cool.  To  appease  my  artificially 
created  thirst  I  took  sundry  sips  of  Cape  brandy,  flavoured  with 
an  iron-quinine  tonic — a  queer  mixture  at  the  best  of  times. 

A  short  morning  trek  brought  us  to  the  river,  which  looked 
very  fresh  and  ])ictui-esque  after  the  monotoiious  veld  of  the 
sand-belt.  By  tlio  river  Vv'as  a  small  village.  Releasing  the  thirsty 
oxen,  which  had  ]:>cen  two  full  days  without  water,  we  let  them 
drink  tlieir  fill.  It  is  always  a  pleasant  sight  to  watch  a  thirsty 
span  sucking  up  the  cool  water  ;  you  feel  how  thoroughly  they 
desei've  it. 

While  the  oxen  were  grazing  I  had  a  most  enjoyable  dip  in  the 
river,  changing  my  dusty  clothes  for  clean  ones.  I  then  proceeded 
to  await  the  arrival  of  the  natives.  When  tlicy  had  turned  up 
I  counted  them  and  found  nine  men  were  missing  and  one  or 
two  women  also — about  tlie  women  I  did  not  woi-ry  a  jot  as  they 
were  onlv  encuml^raiiecs.  I  sent  back  scvci'al  of  the  most  willing 
natives  witli  water  to  bring  tliem  in.  After  a  wait  of  a  day  and  a 
lialf  tlie  nati^'es  ixtunied  witli  the  unsatisfactory  news  tliat  the 
missing  men  and  women,  judging  by  the  indications  of  their 
foot])rints.  liad  returned  in  tlie  direction  of  Tsau.  I  wa.s  now 
ten  men  short  out  of  tlie  number  that  had  lei't  the  Lake  with 
me.  My  I'cference  to  this  in  my  diary  reads  :  "  Now  ten  men 
have  deserted,  which  leaves  thirty-eight  in  all ;  if  this  continues 
onlv  ^^'a<^i:on  and  self  will  ariive  in  Serowe." 


TROUBLES  ON  MY  RETURN  TREK 

Once  more  I  pointed  out  to  my  foreman  tlic  folly  of  not  carry- 
ing out  the  instructions  given  him  and  the  seriousness  of  our 
position.  We  had  been  on  trek  for  seventeen  days  and  had  only 
covered  seventy  miles  in  actual  distance.  There  were  but  ten 
bags  of  grain  left  and  no  prospect  of  obtaining  any  more  till 
we  ]-eached  Rhakops — in  other  words,  there  was  just  sufficient 
food  for  ten  days  and  in  the  manner  in  which  we  were  travelling 
it  looked  a  full  twenty  days'  trek  to  Rhakops.  The  prospect  of 
starvation  seemed  to  strike  home  to  the  natives  ;  so  did  my  new 
rule  :  No  trek — no  food  !  To  appeal  to  the  stomachs  of  the 
natives  seemed  the  only  powerful  argument. 

In  view  of  the  incompetence  of  the  foremaii,  I  appointed 
certain  of  the  best  natives  as  ])o]ice  boys.  To  these  I  issued 
instructions  that  they  were  to  keep  every  native  in  front  of  the 
waggon  and  that  they  might  flog  any  they  caught  loafing 
behind,  I  myself  taking  full  responsibility.  In  my  state  of  mind 
then  I  would  witliout  any  qualms  have  countenanced  torture, 
I  write  openly  what  my  feelings  were  then,  by  penning  an 
extract  from  my  diary.  Being  always  alone,  with  never  a  white 
mari  with  whom  to  exchange  words  or  ideas,  I  spent  many  an 
hour  writing  my  thoughts  and  observations  in  my  diary  ;  it 
was,  in  fact,  my  only  relaxation.  The  many  hours  of  intro-  and 
retrospection  leave  on  one's  character  an  indelible  mark,  which 
neither  time  nor  change  can  efface.  An  almost  unnatural  state 
of  self-absorption  is  the  inevitable  result^ — ^a  state  that  is 
certainly  not  conducive  to  happiness. 

Here  ore  some  of  my  diary  extracts  for  the  20th  of  January  : 

'■  Taking  one  hundred  aiid  fifty  natives,  men  and  women  and 
childicn,  by  waggon  five  to  six  hundred  miles,  through  lion  ^■eld, 
through  fe^'e^  veld,  and  thirstland — ^alone — is  no  cliild's  play  ! 
What  a  contrast  the  Damara  women  arc  to  the  men.  The  former 
carry  tlicii-  cliildren  on  tlieir  backs  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
kit — and  are  never  sick  and  Jiever  com])lain.  Tlie  men  do 
]iot]iing  sa\'e  loaf,  grumble  and  malinger.  True,  it  seems  that 
every  country  owes  its  greatness  to  its  women  and  not  to  the  men 
— to  the  mothei's  and  not  the  fathers  of  the  nation. 

3^5 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

"  The  contact — -now  of  weeks — with  these  natives  sickens  me 
more  and  more.  When  a  skey  breaks,  or  something  delays  the 
waggon,  a  crowd  of  these  niggers  gather  round  it  and  start 
chattering  ]ike  baboons  ;  so  do  they  irritate  me  that  I  feel  like 
getting  my  sjambok  and  letting  out  all  rovmd  to  relieve  my 
feelings.  Oh  for  the  slave  days  of  old  !  Chains  and  a  few  long 
whips  would  make  these  loafing  niggers  walk  their  thirty  miles 
a  day. 

"  How  constant  contact  with  these  natives  seems  to  render 
one  more  and  more  callous,  and  less  sensitive  to  the  feelings  of 
others.  I  seem  to  feel  I  would  gaze  on  the  sufferings  of  one 
of  these  natives  with  as  much  equanimity  as  I  could  on  the 
sufferings  of  a  wounded  snake  !  " 

In  recoi'ding  these  lines  I  do  not,  of  course,  put  them  on 
record  as  my  feelings  to-day  ;  but  they  were  the  sentiments 
«olitude,  overwjought  nerves  and  the  daily  troubles  on  that 
lonely  trek  pi'oduced. 

When  all  the  remaining  natives  wei'e  assembled  we  started 
trekking  along  the  rivcj'.  We  were  now  able  to  trek  for  inost  of 
the  way  in  the  river  bed  since  the  wotej"  had  returned  to  its 
normal  level  ;  in  places  where  the  river  banks  were  too  high 
and  the  trees  too  large  the  waggon  track  led  through  the  sand- 
belts  tiiat  stretch  along  the  river. 

]\Iy  police  system  worked  fairly  well  ;  one  of  the  natives  was 
flogged  and  the  example  had  some  effect.  We  were  now  on  short 
rations,  as  the  stock  of  gi'ain  was  nearly  exhausted.  Foitun- 
ately  the  natives  wcie  able  to  su])plement  the  little  food  they 
were  receiving  with  the  flesh  of  simdry  ant-bears,  which  they 
were  ])ast  masters  in  eateliing.  I  nevci'  tasted  Ihe  flesli  myself, 
but  it  lool'.ed  good  and  a])])etising  and  similar  to  })oik. 

In  one  c;veniiig  trek  we  passed  througli  a  forest  of  mopane 
ti'ees,  most  of  tlw.wi  dead  and  bai'c.  It  was  a  most  desolate 
sight.  The;  tall  gaunt  trunks  with  tlieir  gnai'led  and  withered 
boughs  stood  out  in  weird  relief  against  the  dim  liglit  of  the  twi- 
ll g}  it  sky — a  forest  of  Death  !  Some  kind  of  worm  liad  caused  the 
destru'iLiou  of  niaiiy  of  these  ti'ces,  and  lightning  that  of  others. 

316 


TROUBLES  ON  MY  RETURN  TREK 

The  moon  was  now  full  ;  so  in  order  to  save  the  oxen  I  trekked 
as  much  as  I  could  in  the  night-time,  outspanning  at  sunrise  to 
give  tlie  cattle  a  short  graze  before  the  sun  became  too  hot. 
Whilst  trekking,  the  natives  would  walk  ahead  for  a  couple  of 
miles,  then  squat  down  and  kindle  a  fire.  As  soon  as  the 
crack  of  the  whip  reached  their  ears  off  they  would  go  again, 
knowing  that  if  they  delayed  a  sjambok  might  descend  on 
their  shoulders.  When  the  waggon  passed  all  that  remained  of 
their  little  outspan  fires  would  be  the  small  heaps  of  glowing 
embers. 

Trekking  on  by  the  river  we  passed  the  Baobab  tree  and 
shortly  afterwards  reached  Samuel  Shepherd's  Post—a  large 
settlement  of  Damaras  in  charge  of  several  cattle-posts. 

Here,  as  I  had  feared,  I  was  met  by  fresh  trouble  with 
tlie  natives.  When  I  gave  the  signal  to  inspan  (about  three 
o'clock  a.m),  having  no  wish  to  stop  at  this  post  a  minute  longer 
than  was  necessary,  a  deputation  of  the  niggers  gravely  informed 
mc  that  they  were  not  oxen  and  that  I  was  killing  them.  I 
informed  the  deputation  in  as  forcible  language  as  I  could 
convey  through  an  interpreter  that  I  fully  agreed  witii  them^ — ■ 
tliat  they  were  not  oxen,  for  none  of  them  had  the  heart  of  a 
rabbit,  and  that  if  they  were  oxen  I  should  have  some  lespect 
for  them.  Not  a  complaint  from  any  of  the  womcji  !  Only  from 
tlie  men  who  carried  nothing  save  a  spear.  I  cajoled  them, 
liumoured  them  like  children,  talked  to  tlieni  like  a  father, 
finally  cursed  them  like  a  trooper,  and  went  to  sleep  again. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done  but  wait  for  daylight.  I 
extracted  from  them,  however,  the  bargain  that  if  there  were  to 
be  no  night  trekking  they  nmst  make  at  least  two  long  treks  a 
day. 

It  was  evident  that  the  cattle-post  natives  had  put  them  up 
to  it.  (|uite  a  few  of  them  being  Christians.  If  you  arc  aiixious 
to  })ut  your  hands  on  a  schehn  native  in  Africa,  just  trek  to  any 
Jiative  kraal  that  has  had  a  missionary  in  the  vicinity.  Inci- 
dentally lock  up  everything  you  value  in  youi'  \vaggon  safely, 
ior  the  Chri.^tianised  coon  has   liiorouglil}-  imbibeti  the  art   of 

6^7 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

thieving  !  It  is  rather  a  sad  thing  to  record,  but  alas  only  too 
true. 

The  Damaras  at  this  cattle-post,  having  been  some  time  in 
the  Protectorate,  were  shrewd  enough  to  see  the  whole  position 
and  the  many  weak  spots  in  my  authority  ;  hence,  to  accept  my 
defeat  gracefully  was  the  wisest  course.  It  was  a  case  of  a  daily 
fight  for  me  to  maintain  my  authority  over  the  natives,  for  it 
had  not  only  been  unsupported  but  had  even  been  undermined 
by  the  insidious  beliaviour  and  talk  of  the  recruiter.  Had  I  once 
had  an  open  collision  it  ^vould  have  been  the  finish  of  every- 
thing. A  tale  of  death  by  fever  would  have  easily  accounted 
for  my  dcjoarture,  for  there  was  not  a  white  man  to  laiow  the 
diffei-encc.  I  do  net  wish  to  imply  that  I  was  too  higluninded 
to  withstand  the  temptation  to  use  brute  force  ;  but  I  had 
sufficient  horse-sense  to  see  that  it  would  be  fotal  for  me  if 
I  once  lost  control  of  my  temper  and  precipitated  matters. 

The  day  after  this  refusal  on  the  part  of  the  natives  to  trek 
during  the  night  I  got  "my  own  back"  by  making  a  long  trek 
till  nearly  noon.  The  day  was  cloudy,  fortunately  for  the  ])Oor 
oxen,  whicli  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  laziness  of  the  ]iatives. 
By  the  river  in  this  region  we  came  on  much  spoor  of  hippo 
and  on  one  occasion  I  caught  sight  of  a  cow  and  calf  going 
down  the  river,  grunting  in  unison. 

A  long  evening  trek  brought  us  to  Piet  Sebcgo's  stadt,  where 
we  outspanncd  for  tlse  night.  Where  before  had  been  floods  were 
now  "lands,"  well  covered  with  croj)s  of  Ivjifir  corn,  mcvilies 
and  pum])kins,  rather  late,  as  the  floods  of  that  year  had  delayed 
the  planting  though  considerably  enriching  tlie  ground. 

That  day  1  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of  gc-tting  a  broken  limb 
from  the  kick  of  an  ox.  We  were  heaving  the  river  bed  to  trek 
along  the  banks,  aseending  a  very  steej)  drift.  1  was  walking 
behind  the  al'ter-oxen,  urging  thcju  on,  when  one  suddenh'  let 
out  with  liis  hind  leg.  Fortunately  I  was  wearing  at  the  moment 
leather  riding  gaiters,  but  for  which  the  force  of  the  blow  would 
have  broken  my  leg.  As  it  was,  I  got  off  very  lightly,  though  I 
was  sore  lor  a  lew  da\s. 


TROUBLES  ON  MY  RETURN  TREK 

One  more  trek  brought  us  to  ^lakalambedi — on  the  border  of 
Khama's  territory. 

lu  this  trek  we  came  on  much  Hon  spoor,  as  well  as  that  of 
big  game.  At  night-time  the  natives  in  hon  veld  always  carried 
burning  torches  gathered  from  their  little  outspans  ;  this  line 
of  twinkling  lights  in  the  veld  looked  very  quaint. 

1  had  been  advised  by  native  intelligence  that  the  storekeeper 
at  3Iakalambedi  was  very  ill,  so  I  pushed  on  to  arrive  as  soon  as 
I  could.  I  explained  to  the  natives  that  I  w^as  going  to  trek  all 
that  night  till  I  reached  the  store,  and  that  so  far  as  they  were 
concerned  they  could  do  what  they  liked  in  the  matter — either 
come  on  the  morning  or  trek  with  the  waggon.  With  true  cussed- 
ncss,  seeing  that  I  did  not  care  wdiat  they  did,  they  decided  to 
trek  with  me.  I  was  walking  ahead  of  the  waggon  that  evening 
in  the  clear  moonlight,  and,  my  thoughts  reverting  to  the  lion 
spoor  we  had  observed  just  before,  I  was  wondering  whether  I 
should  ever  get  the  opportunity  of  meeting  a  lion  at  close 
quarters.  Thus  ruminating,  my  train  of  thoughts  was  suddenly 
Ijrokcn  by  the  sight  of  a  crouching  form  not  twenty  yards  ahead 
of  me.  1  stood  stock-still,  and  stared.  Not  a  movement.  Not 
a  rustle.  Only  the  same  crouching  position  as  though  waiting 
to  spring.    I  levelled  my  gun,  took  careful  aim,  and  fired  ! 

Well,  I  may  as  well  confess  it — m}^  lion  was  no  lion  at  all. 
It  was  a  thorn  Inish.  The  moon's  fickle  rays  and  my  imagina- 
tion had  done  the  rest. 

It  was  late  before  we  outspanned  by  the  store.  When  the 
natives  turned  up  they  were  full  of  the  fact  that  a  huge  hippo- 
potamus had  charged  down  to  the  river  right  in  front  of  them, 
making  a  noise  like  thunder  crashing  through  the  bush  and  reeds 
bv  the  river. 


3^9 


CHAPTER    XI 

ON    HORSEBACK    THROUGH    THE    DESERT 

I  FOUND  the  trader  at  ^lakalamabedi  store  very  ill, 
thoroughly  run  down  from  fever  and  from  the  deadly 
monotony  of  the  place.  He  was  the  only  white  man  for 
miles  around.  He  was  also  suffering  from  bad  veld  sores,  many 
of  which  had  developed  into  sloughing  abscesses.  I  was  able  to 
be  of  some  little  assistance  to  him,  but  at  the  same  time  I 
strongly  urged  him  to  leave  the  place — at  least  for  a  time — as 
the  life  lie  was  living  was  not  life  at  all,  but  merely  existence. 

I  found  there  was  not  a  bag  of  grain  to  be  obtained  in  the 
place  ;  in  fact  the  storekeeper  wished  to  buy  some  from  me, 
which  was,  of  course,  quite  out  of  the  question.  The  grain  crop 
in  the  district  had  been  almost  a  failure,  owing  to  the  recent 
floods.  I  spent  a  day  at  the  store  livening  up  the  trader,  who 
sadly  needed  it.  At  sunrise  on  the  following  day  I  inspanned  and 
trekked  out  of  the  stadt.  We  were  now  in  Khama's  territory. 
The  veld  here  was  covered  with  very  fresh  green  grass,  the  great 
part  of  the  land  through  which  we  were  no^v  trekking  having 
been  before  under  water. 

We  reached  Moremi  Drift  the  following  day.  3Iucli  of  the 
river  near  this  drift  was  very  rocky,  numerous  ironstone  boulders 
strewing  the  bed  of  the  stream,  I  was  making  as  long  treks  as 
I  could  during  the  day,  as  my  .suj^ply  of  food  for  the  natives 
was  fast  giving  out  ;  fortunately  the  sky  wa>>  cloudy  and  over- 
cast. I  had  reduced  their  ration^  to  le.;^  than  1  lb.  per  licad  a  da\'. 
a  ^^triking  contract  to  tlie  surfeiting  diet  the  recruiter  had  ^-o 
foolishly  lavished  on  them  when  in  Tsau  ;  consequenth'  I  had 
to  listen  daily  to  endless  grumblings  and  complaints  as  to  my 
imworlhincss  and  to  eulofries  of  our  distin^uisht/d  leader.  What 


ox  HORSEBACK   THROUGH  THE  DESERT 

could  one  expect  from  a  crowd  of  niggers  so  completely 
spoilt. 

I  bagged  a  bull  kudu  near  this  drift,  which  was,  however,  as 
tough  as  my  boot  and  must  have  been  nearly  as  old  as  Methu- 
selah. The  meat  was  a  welcome  change  though  after  the  eternal 
filmed  salmon  and  bully  beef.  The  killing  of  such  game  was, 
of  course,  against  regulations,  but  in  the  circumstances  I  took 
the  risk.  Nevertheless  I  thought  it  expedient  to  report  the  fact 
to  Chief  Khama  on  my  reaching  Serowe.  He,  however,  already 
knew  of  it  !   Native  intelligence  in  South  Africa  is  wonderful. 

It  was  always  a  very  pretty  scene  at  night-time  when  out- 
spaimcd  by  the  river.  But  for  the  incessant  friction  and  worry 
I  could  have  felt  then  at  perfect  peace  with  the  world.  On  the 
one  side  the  dark  smooth  waters  of  the  Eotletle  silently  flowed 
between  banks  lined  with  thick  reeds,  in  which  the  croaking  frogs 
nightly  held  concert ;  on  the  other  stretched  the  thickly  timbered 
veld,  now  quiet  and  still,  in  which  twinkled  the  little  camp  fires 
of  the  natives  like  fireflies  in  the  darkness.  Only  the  distant 
snarl  of  a  sneaking  hyaena  or  the  occasional  grunt  of  a  hippo  in 
tlie  river  would  break  with  startling  clearness  the  quiet  of  the 
night.  The  little  fires  slowly  died  out  one  by  one  till  just  a  few 
bunimg  embers  gleamed  in  the  darkness.  Perhaps  it  was  even 
more  peaceful  and  solemn  when  the  darkness  of  night  gave 
place  to  the  grey  of  dawn  which  came  stealing  up  from  the  east, 
paling  the  light  of  the  stars,  and  when  the  greyness  of  dawn 
gave  j)lace  to  the  tender  hue  of  breaking  day.  In  faint  and 
ghostly  light  the  sleeping  veldt  awoke.  The  dawn,  however, 
l)rought  also  another  day  of  worry  and  trouble.  I  would  liavc 
repeatedly  to  urge  the  natives  to  get  on  the  move,  not  daring 
to  inspan  till  the  last  liad  gone  ahead  for  fear  of  some  lagaii^g 
behind,  which  meant  in  the  end  my  missing  the  second  trelc. 

[t  was  very  diflicult  to  recognise  parts  of  the  country  through 
which  we  had  trekked  before  as  so  much  of  the  land  had  been 
then  imder  water.  The  drift  which  we  had  been  com])('llcd 
before  to  ford  with  double  spans  was  now  dry.  Our  travelling 
"was  consequently  now  nearly  twice  as  fast,  since  many  of  the 
X  321 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

long  detouis  before  necessary  were  no  longer  so  ;  our  waggon, 
further,  was  nearly  empty  and  this  assisted  the  oxen  con- 
siderably. I  outspanned  at  ]Menoakwena  Drilt  on  the  evening 
of  the  26th,  where  we  found  kraaled,  on  their  way  to  Serowe, 
a  mob  of  cattle  sent  down  for  sale  by  one  of  the  trading  stores 
at  Tsau.  Some  waggons  bound  for  the  Lake  were  also  out- 
spanned  here  and  we  were  able  to  obtain  news  of  the  road 
ahead  of  us.  What  we  gleaned  was  not  reassuring.  The  waggon 
natives  informed  us  that  the  rains  in  the  desert  had  been  up  till 
then  very  scanty  and  that  they  had  lost  three  oxen,  two  of  which 
had  died  in  the  "  thirst,"  the  other  at  the  well.  It  had  rushed 
blindly  for  the  water — mad  with  thirst — and  had  fallen  into 
the  v/ell  and  broken  its  neck.  This  news  of  the  road  was  not  at 
all  satisfactory,  for  with  all  these  natives  I  felt  it  would  be  a 
difficult  task,  to  trek  fast,  as  would  be  necessary  if  I  were  not  to 
see  my  oxen  die  in  the  "thirst "  ;  and  my  experience  with  the 
natives  in  the  Ileina  veld  was  hardly  encouraging. 

I  rested  the  cattle  during  the  forepart  of  the  day  following 
our  arrival  at  this  drift,  for  ahead  of  us  was  the  "thirst  "  of 
Hendrick's  road.  In  the  afternoon  we  outspanned  and  trekked 
till  sundown.  The  sand  was  very  heavy,  the  veld  here  being- 
bare.  After  a  short  graze  the  oxen  were  inspanned  again  and 
we  made  a  long  evening  trek.  After  another  sliort  outspan  we 
trekked  on  till  late  in  the  night. 

W^itli  consistent  contrariety  a  native  must  needs  die  in  this 
"  t]iir>,t,"  not  being  considerate  enough  to  Avait  till  we  were  near 
water.  He  had  been  sick  of  blackwater  fever  for  some  days, 
A  sad  wail — the  death  dirge  of  the  Damaras — awoke  the 
sleeping  veld.  Jt  was  all  the  more  })laintive  in  the  ghostly  still- 
ness of  a})pi'oaching  dawn.  Sunrise  saw  a  newl}'  made  grave 
in  tJie  widc-o])en  veld  and  tlie  waggon  on  trc;k.  We  trekked  long — 
far  too  long  in  tlie  hot  sun — till  we  reached  the  stadt  of  Rasebaki 
by  the  river,  wlierc  tlic  wearied  oxen  drank  and  grazed.  A  short 
evejiijig  trek  brouglit  us  to  Kop's  Post- — the  scene  of  our  old 
camp.  As  1  hadantiei))ated  tlie  Damaras  iu  this  Ciittle-post  wen.' 
liie  cause  of  more  trouble  :  here  again  mv  Jibreless  mob  of  black 


ON  HORSEBACK  THROUGH  THE  DESERT 

ivory  told  me  that  they  were  not  oxen.  They  knew  full  well  that 
it  was  my  intention  to  rest  the  cattle  for  two  or  three  days  at 
the  stadt  of  Rhakops,  which  was  only  two  treks  off.  Disgusted, 
I  trekked  on,  leaving  them  there,  and  reached  Rhakops  flats 
at  sunrise,  after  travelling  the  best  part  of  the  night.  3Iuch  spoor 
of  wild  ostrich,  a  most  peculiar  imprint,  was  visible  on  these 
flats.  I  outspanned  by  the  police  camp  and  had  breakfast  with 
the  cheery  N.C.O.,  and  it  was  good  to  see  a  white  man  again 
after  weeks  with  my  blacks. 

All  the  land  round  the  stadt,  which  before  had  been  under 
water,  was  now  covered  with  crops  of  mealies  and  Kafir  corn. 
I  was  advised  to  warn  my  driver  to  watch  our  cattle  carefully 
when  grazing,  as  if  they  were  found  amongst  the  natives 
"  lands  "  the  owners  would  demand  compensation  for  alleged 
damage  to  their  crops.  The  crops  had  flourished  well  just  after 
planting  as  the  ground  had  been  enriched  by  the  recent  Hoods, 
but  now  they  were  in  sad  need  of  rain  ;  hence  the  natives,  fore- 
seeing poor  c]'ops,  were  not  at  all  sorry  to  find  a  span  of  oxen 
roaming  amidst  their  mealies  in  view  of  the  compensation  to 
come.  I  learnt  "  gallsick  "  had  broken  out  amongst  the  cattle 
in  the  stadt,  whilst  horse-sickness  had  been  and  still  was  rife. 

]Most  of  the  natives  straggled  in  on  the  following  day.  As  I 
had  promised  them,  I  bought  at  the  store  a  young  ox  and  had  it 
slaughtered  to  give  them  some  change  of  food.  To  my  surprise  on 
going  to  tlie  waggon  where  the  ox  was  being  cut  up  I  found  a  hind 
quarter  missing  and  learnt  that  Schmidt  liad  coolly  presented 
it  to  some  of  his  loafing  friends  in  the  stadt.  This  was  the  last 
straw  !  I  gave  the  native  till  the  next  day  to  get  it  back,  failing 
which  I  would  charge  him  before  the  police.  Doubtless  he 
thought  that  I  was  bluffing  in  the  u.sual  manner  of  our 
recruiter,  for  no  meat  was  forthcoming  on  the  morrow.  He 
got,  therefore,  a  decided  shock  when  two  Easuto  policemen 
escorted  him  up  to  the  police  camp. 

As  I  decided  not  to  charge  him  formally,  the  })olice  corporal 
reprimanded  the  native  severely.  I  had  acquainted  the  N.C.O. 
with  the  position,  so  he  was  not  surpri'sed  when  my  foreman,  in 

DO -3. 


A  WAXDEREirS  TRAIL 

defence,  told  liim  that  ^Morgan  had  put  hiai  in  cliarge  of  the 
natives  and  he  could  therefore  do  as  he  liked.  The  Daniara 
added  he  would  now  return  to  the  Lake.  "  Li  irons,  if  you  do," 
promptly  replied  the  N.C.O.  Personally  I  did  not  want  him 
imprisoned,  for,  bad  as  he  was  as  a  foreman,  he  was  better  than 
nobody,  and.  further,  one  could  hardly  blame  him,  an  ignorant 
native,  for  trying  mider  the  circumstances  to  show  off  to  his 
friends  in  the  stadt  what  authority  he  held  and  what  a  big  man 
he  was.  In  view  of  this  collision  with  the  foreman  I  determined 
to  take  both  him  and  Morgan  at  their  word — Schmidt  should  be 
the  foreman  and  the  sole  one.  I  decided  to  ride  on  horseback 
through  the  desert  when  we  reached  ^lopipi.  Tliis  decision  of 
mine  was  further  prompted  by  the  information  I  daily  received 
as  to  the  cloud  of  distrust  and  suspicion  that  everywliere  en- 
veloped tlie  doings  of  the  expedition ;  by  the  information  that  the 
recruiter's  spoor  after  his  second  departure  from  Johannesburg 
was  but  a  track  of  debts  and  broken  promises.  Hence  I  felt  that 
to  ai-rivc  in  Serowe  with  these  natives,  without  any  arrange- 
ments made  for  their  reception,  would  mean  numerous  desertioiis 
and  endless  trouble.  J.ast,  l)ut  not  least — I  will  be  perfectly  frank 
on  this  point — 1  was  so  heartily  sick  and  disgusted  with  the 
^vhole  affair,  which  from  tJie  beginning  to  the  end  had  been  but 
one  long  course  of  pettiness  and  deception,  anth  to  boot,  a  \nirc 
laljour  of  love  inasmuch  as  1  had  not  received  one  penny  of 
the  salary  agreed  on,  that  1  felt  the  sooner  1  was  Ihiished  with 
the  whole  "  shooting  match  "'  the  better  for  me.  1  was  also 
feeling  so  below  j)ar  that  1  dreaded  even  the  one  more  week 
that  1  had  yet  to  spend  in  the  company  of  those  natives. 

We  trekked  liard  round  the  river  bend  to  Mopipi.as  the  river 
was  lined  with  cattle-posts,  all  of  ^\•hich  contained  their  mob  of 
loahng  Damai'as.  1  so  arranged  the  treks  that  we  parsed  most  of 
them  whilst  trekking  and  the  principal  ones  during  tlie  niglit. 
We  reached  .Mopipi.  or  "Barker's  Store,"  on  the  4th  of  February. 
It  ^vas  undei'stood  that  this  store  was  to  su])ply  us  witli  grain 
for  tlie  natives.  The  storekeeper  on  my  arrival  informed  me. 
however,  thai  he  had  received  no  authority  to  do  ^o  and  that  the 

324 


I  1"MI.    SWI.K  I      1  1,  ,M 


ox  HORSEBACK  THROUGH  THE  DESERT 

Inst  nceonnt  iiioiirrcd  by  fhc  expedition  lind  not  yet  been  j)aid, 
the  Johannesburg  promoters  having  dishonoured  the  recruiter's 
signatui-e.  So  I  found  niysell'  in  a  very  pleasant  position — with 
no  food,  and  over  one  hundred  natives  on  my  hands  !  I  had  no 
alternative  but  to  send  the  waggon  back  to  Rhakops  to  try 
to  obtain  grain  from  the  store  there.  Meanwhile  the  trader 
at  ]\Iopipi,  who  was  only  acting  on  instructions,  helped  me  out 
by  supplying  me  with  just  enough  grain  to  keep  the  natives 
from  starving.  This  disgraceful  confusion  alone  would  have 
decided  me  as  to  the  urgent  necessity  of  going  ahead  to  Tuakc 
some  preparations  for  the  natives  and  to  endeavour  in  some 
small  ^vay  to  clear  the  cloud  which  hung  over  the  affairs  of  the 
expedition. 

I  was  able  to  liire  here  a  native  horse,  a  "  salted  "  one,  and  I 
also  engaged  the  owner  to  accompany  me  through  the  desert. 
We  saddled  up  at  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  having 
])acked  on  our  saddles  a  few  pounds  of  Boer  meal,  a  little  coffee 
and  sugar,  and  one  or  two  tins  of  potted  meat.  This  had  to  suffice 
for  the  needs  of  myself  and  my  native  for  about  a  week,  bv 
wliieh  time  we  reckoned  to  reach  the  stadt  of  Serowe. 

Having  made  all  my  preparations,  I  handed  over  the  reins  of 
office  to  Schmidt  with  grim  satisfaction.  He  did  not  seem  to 
relish  very  much  his  sudden  promotion  to  absolute  power — the 
sole  responsibility  of  a  hundred  odd  men.  women  and  children. 
];}efoi-e  moimting  my  horse  I  took  a  last  look  at  the  motley  crowd 
oF  himianity,  whom  I  had  brought  with  me  over  three  hundred 
miles,  with  whom  I  had  been  for  five  weeks  ;  and  so  strange  is 
hmnaii  nature  that  1  felt  almost  a  tinge  of  regret- — or  was  it 
repioacli  ?— as  I  grasped  the  reins  and  rode  away. 

(I  never  saw  those  natives  again.  I  learnt  that  some  of  them 
eventually  an-ived  in  Serowe  after  having  managed  to  smash 
the  front  wheel  of  the  waggon  when  in  the  desert ;  and  that  but 
lor  one  or  two  jjrovidential  showers  of  rain  they  %vould  have  all 
jjcrisjied  of  thirst.) 

After  riding  three  hours  we  reached  Maehanin  Pan.  where  we 


A  WAXDET^ETJ'S  TRAIL 

watered  our  horses  and  rested  them  for  a  couple  of  hours  during 
the  heat  of  the  day.  My  uative  was  a  Bahurutsi,  a  river  native. 
He  spoke  a  dialect  full  of  "  clicks  "  and  "  clucks,"  and  it  was 
very  difTieult  to  understand.  However,  by  dint  of  much  struggling 
we  managed  to  make  ourselves  intelligible  to  one  another. 

The  water  in  this  vlei  was  of  the  consistency  of  pea  soup  :  a 
sediment  of  mud  an  inch  thick  remained  in  my  cup  after  drinking 
some  coffee.  As  hundreds  of  head  of  cattle  had  watered  there 
this  was  not  very  surprising. 

We  rode  steadily  on  through  the  afternoon,  reachiiig  Chucutsa 
pit  at  sundown,  after  crossing  the  wide  stretcli  of  Chucutsa  salt 
pan,  which  was  now  nearly  dry.  Its  surface  was  as  flat  as  a  billiard- 
table,  tlie  alkaline  deposit  crumbling  into  powder  under  the 
horses'  feet.  We  off-saddled  for  a  couple  of  hours  at  the  water 
to  rest  our  horses  and  to  have  a  short  respite.  Remounting,  we 
rode  steadily  on  through  the  night  till  the  moon  sank.  It  was 
then  close  on  midnight.  I  was  dead  beat  when  I  dismounted, 
stiff  and  very  weary.  We  had  been  in  the  saddle  foi-  nearly  ten 
hours  and  had  covered  some  thirty-four  miles.  The  heavy  sand, 
as  also  the  length  of  our  journey,  prevented  us  froin  pushing  our 
horses  ;  a  fast  steady  walk  was  the  only  gait  at  wliieh  we  could 
travel,  for  if  we  had  ridden  any  faster  our  horses  would  not  liave 
lasted  out  the  journey.  On  the  part  of  tlie  riders  it  was  ]-eally 
more  a  question  of  endurance  than  horsemansJiip.  ^^'e  tied  our 
horses  to  a  tree  near  by  and.  fully  dressed,  threw  ourselves  on 
tlic  soft  sand,  using  our  saddles  as  pillows  and  our  blankets  to 
keep  off  the  dew.  I  slept  like  a  dead  man  till  sunrise,  when  we 
niounted  our  horses  and  rode  on.  After  riding  for  alK)ut  an  liour. 
we  came  on  to  a  waggon  outspanned  in  the  veld  on  its  way 
up  to  the  Lake.  A  Dutch  transport-rider  with  his  family  was 
accom])anying  the  waggon.  I  liad  a  short  yarn  and  a  eii]:)  of  coffee 
with  the  Dutchman  and  his  wife,  and  before  leaving  they  gave 
us  some  bread  to  take  along  with  us.  Hospitality  is  the  lirst  rule 
of  the  veld.  We  rode  on  till  noon,  when  we  off-saddled  for  a  short 
while  to  rest  the  horses.  We  were  now  well  in  the  desert  and 
riding  through  tliis  was  most  monotonous  ;   never  a  change 

326 


ox  PIORSEBACK  THROUGH  THE  DESERT 

from  the  thick  bush  and  heavy  sand  that  stretched  for  miles 
aromid.  At  sundown  we  reached  the  LotUiakanc  well  and  there 
rested,  makin;^  a  short  meal  of  "roaster-cookies"  and  coffee. 
Bcin^  now  out  of  the  fever  zone  and  in  the  cold,  clear  air  of  the 
Kalahari,  I  suffered  almost  daily  from  attacks  of  fever,  which, 
though  not  of  a  very  severe  nature,  were  yet  quite  sufHcient 
to  make  me  feel  very  much  below  par.  A  hollow  tooth  also  gave 
me  periodical  twinges.  Altogether  I  was  far  from  happy. 

We  had  now  covered  seventy  miles.  I  managed  to  get  a  wash 
at  the  well  by  filling  up  the  cattle-trough  with  the  well-water. 
Resting  during  the  forepart  of  the  next  day,  we  saddled  up  in  the 
afternoon  and  rode  without  a  break  to  the  well  at  Ditawane, 
where  we  camped  for  that  night.  We  were  riding  as  much  as 
possible  during  the  night  in  order  to  save  the  horses.  The  nights 
were  quite  chilly  after  the  heat  of  the  river  zone.  In  the  after- 
noon we  saddled  up  and  resumed  our  ride,  though  after  two 
hours  in  the  saddle  I  was  compelled  to  dismount,  fever  coming 
on  suddenly.  To  make  up  for  lost  time  on  the  fifth  day  we 
rode  steadily  from  sunrise  for  eight  hours,  only  off-saddling 
once  to  graze  the  horses.  My  native,  though  a  very  slightly 
built  man,  possessed  a  vast  amount  of  endurance,  a  stretch  of 
twelve  hours  in  tlie  saddle  being  to  him  quite  an  ordinary  thing  ; 
to  me  it  was  by  no  means  so.  At  times  I  felt  so  weary  that  I  could 
have  almost  fallen  out  of  the  saddle,  as  fever  had  almost  com- 
pletely sapped  my  energy.  The  monotony,  too,  of  the  veld  was 
deadly. 

When  near  the  Mukarane  Pan  we  met  some  waggons  trekking 
up  to  the  Lake,  accompanied  by  two  young  traders  bound  for 
the  interior.  .Meeting  them  was  a  pleasant  break  in  the  ride. 
A  chat,  a  few  nips  of  brandy,  and  a  couple  of  cigarettes  were 
more  than  welcome.  We  camped  by  the  vlei  for  the  night. 
There  was  plenty  of  water  in  it,  but  it  was  as  muddy  as  it  could 
possibly  l)c.  We  had  to  drink  it,  however,  and  vrith  coffee  it 
■went  down  all  right.  From  this  pan  there  were  yet  sixt\-  miles 
to  be  covered  before  our  destination  was  reached.  I  ate  very 
little — too  little — on  this  trip,  not  more  than  two  or  three 

327 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

"  roaster-cookies  "  in  a  day.  I  did  not  feel  hungry  in  the  least, 
but  I  should  have  eaten  more  ;  as  it  was,  I  was  simply  living  on 
my  reserve  strength — as  I  found  out  too  late  wlien  I  had  over- 
drawn U})on  it.  We  reached  ]\Iomongwe  well  by  noon  on  the 
sixth  day,  after  a  long  period  in  the  saddle,  made  a  short 
stay  by  the  well  and  were  in  the  saddle  again  till  sundown, 
passing  Kolokome  and  dismounting  some  miles  beyond.  Since 
noon  it  had  rained  steadily,  so  we  had  wrapped  our  blankets 
around  us  to  keep  out  the  wet.  After  a  rest  for  an  hour  or  two 
it  was  my  intention  to  ride  on  through  the  night  so  as  to  reach 
Serowe  by  sunrise.  It  was,  however,  a  case  of  Vhomme  -propose, 
Dieu  dispose ;  for  after  dismounting  I  was  seized  with  a 
very  sharp  attack  of  fever  and  dysentery. 

I  lay  by  the  hre  whilst  it  rained  steadily,  racked  with  fever. 
Severe  vomiting  and  other  distressing  symptoms  followed  and 
I  soon  saw  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  think  of  riding  on  tliat 
niglit.  I  had  eaten  nothing  all  that  day,  and  had  had  only 
muddy  water  with  coffee  to  drink.  I  can  recall  very  easily  tliat 
night- — my  la^t  on  the  veld  !  The  steadily  pouring  rain  drenched 
me  as  I  lay  shivering  by  the  smouldering  fire  tliat  burned  with 
difficulty  on  the  sodden  ground  :  the  two  horses  tethered  to 
a  neighbouring  tree  huddled  together  to  seek  comfort  one 
from  the  other ;  and  my  native  sat  gloomily  beside  the  fire,  never 
moving  from  his  cramped  position  save  to  hand  me  a  cup  of 
muddy  water  or  to  stir  the  almost  quenclicd-out  embers.  It  was 
indeed  a  miserable  night — and  yet  one  I  would  willingly  live 
again  as  ])art  of  the  free  and  open  life  on  the  wide  African 
veld. 

I  woke  at  dawn  after  a  fitful  rest  to  find  my  native  and  hor-e 
gone  and  a  strange  native  by  the  fii'e.  I  learnt  from  him  tliat 
my  boy  liad  taken  fi-ight  at  my  condition  and  liad  ridden  on  to 
Serowe  for  assistance. 

Thei'e  was  notliing  for  me  to  do  l^ut  wait.  At  about  ten  o'clock. 
howe\'er.  mv  mare  strayc^l  back — the  wise  little  animal.  I 
felt  we;d<:.  but  frver  had  left  me.  I  saddled  uj:).  but  unfortunately 
had  to  j:)aek  all  my  boy's  kit  in  addition  to  my  own  on  the  one 

328 


ox  IIOT^SEBACK  TIIROITGII  THE  DESERT 

]iorse.  The  poor  animal  was,  like  its  rider,  about  done.  We 
jogovd  alone  at  an  amble,  i-eaohing  Sokoswe  by  noon.  After  a 
short  rest  I  rode  on  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  met  the 
distriet  surgeon  coming  along  in  a  Cape  cart  drawn  at  good 
sj)ce(l  by  a  span  of  mules.  The  genial  doctor  and  I  shook  hands 
lieartily.  He  was  agreeably  svu'prised  not  to  find  me  in  such  a 
deplorable  condition  as  he  had  been  led  to  expect  by  my  native, 
who,  it  seemed,  on  his  arrival  at  the  stadt,  had  imparted  to 
Chief  Khama  the  brief  information  that  there  was  a  white  man 
dying  on  the  veld  ;  hence  the  doctor  had  come  out  post-haste 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  going  to  bury  a  corpse.  Instead  he 
only  found  a  miserably  wet-looking  object,  a  bit  white  about  the 
gills,  riding  a  tired  little  mare. 

I  finished  the  remaining  seven  miles  in  comparative  comfort, 
sitting  in  the  Cape  cart  beside  the  doctor,  who  regaled  me  with 
all  the  latest  news  of  Serowe.  I  heard  nothing  good  about  the 
expedition  with  wliich  I  was  connected.  It  was  dark  when  we 
reached  the  town.  I  spent  three  days  in  the  stadt.  residing  with 
the  hospitable  doctor,  during  which  time  I  did  my  best  to  make 
some  satisfactory  arrangement  for  the  natives  left  behind. 
I  found  the  state  of  affairs  in  connection  with  our  expedition 
even  worse  than  I  had  expected.  Having  straightened  mattei-s 
a  Httle.  I  left  the  stadt  and  rode  the  remaining  forty  miles  to 
Pnlapye,  Within  three  days,  after  ten  months  on  the  veld,  I 
was  slcopinrr — uncomfortably — in  a  soft  bed  in  Johannesburg. 


CHAPTER   XII 

IS    THE    EAST    CALLING    OR   TITE    WEST    DRIVING  ? 

A  FEW  extracts  from  a  letter  to  my  brother  in  England 
give  a  small  insight  into  my  doings  after  my  return 
from  Ngamiland,  during  the  few  weeks  prior  to  my 
sailing  from  Africa  to  the  Far  East  : 

Durban,  Natal, 
20th  July  1911. 

"My  dear  Harold, — To-morrow  I  sail  for  Japan.  Before, 
however,  bringing  you  to  this  date  I  will  give  you  some  idea 
as  to  how  I  have  been  spending  my  time  since  I  returned 
from  Central  Africa  in  February  last. 

"As  I  fully  expected,  my  reception  by  the  promoters  of  the 
expedition  with  which  I  was  connected  was  hardly  what  you 
would  call  gushing.  Persoiially  I  couldn't  blame  them,  for  if  I 
had  wasted  some  four  thousand  pounds  in  a  venture  I  shouldn't 
go  out  of  my  way  to  welcome  with  open  arms  one  who  had 
assisted  in  the  fruitless  expenditure.  I  received  fifty  pounds  for 
my  ten  months'  work  and  had  perforce  to  be  satisfied.  Fever, 
fifty  pounds,  and  Experience  were  all  I  got  for  that  trip.  Well, 
so  much  for  that  fruitless  attempt  to  wrest  success  from  Fate — 
just  one  more  failure,  and  what  is  it  among  so  many  ? 

"For  about  a  month  after  my  return  I  did  nothing  much, 
except  pay  a  few  bills  I  had  left  beliind  in  Johannesburg  and 
vainly  attempt  to  dispose  of  nt  a  pj-ofit  some  tiger  and  lion  skins 
I  had  bi'ouglit  down  fj-om  the  lake.  I  had  numerous  ii-ons  in  the 
fire,  all  of  which  melted,  leaving  behind  only  a  clinker  mass  of 
Depression  and  Disappointment ! 

There  seemed  then  no  alternative  before  me  but  io  return 

33c 


IS  EAST  CALLING  OR  WEST   DRIVING? 

to  the  mines.  I  was,  however,  by  no  means  anxious  to  resume 
underground  mining,  as  my  state  of  health  was  jiot  good 
enough.  Malaria  and  mine  dust  don't  mix  well.  The  worst  thing 
about  malarial  fever  is  that  one  suffers  from  it  worse  when  one 
is  out  of  the  fever  zone.  For  the  first  two  months  after  my 
return  to  the  Transvaal  every  ten  days  regularly  saw  me  down 
to  it  for  a  few  hours  ;  it  is  slackening  off  now  by  dint  of  quinine 
and  sundry  whiskies  and  sodas.  Further,  I  was  not  inclined, 
after  weeks  in  the  open  veld,  to  live  again  the  four-grey-walls- 
and-dirty-ceiling  life  in  a  mine  room.  It's  too  much  of  a  good 
thing  !  Wlien  parsons  talk  of  the  drinking  habits  of  Rand  miners 
they  don't  understand.  Let  them  live  their  days  in  a  single  room 
year  after  year,  and  they  would  soon  find  drinking  was  about 
the  only  hobby  worth  taking  up  seriously. 

'•  Up  to  the  date  of  my  departure  from  Johannesburg  I  was  a 
regular  subscriber,  or  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  a  regular  ower,  to 
the  Public  Library  and  did  quite  a  little  reading  whilst  out  of  a 
job.  The  '  Soul  of  the  People  '  has  decided  me  to  return  to  the 
East.  During  the  nights  on  the  Kalahari  when  the  smoke  of  the 
camp  fire  wafted  the  smell  of  burning  wood  into  my  face,  I  used 
to  spend  hours  recalling  scenes  of  Japan.  So  I'm  going  back. 
In  this  decision  of  mine  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  answering 
the  Call  of  the  East,  or  obeying  the  dictates  of  Fate  which,  in 
the  shape  of  adverse  circumstances,  is  driving  me  from  the 
West.  Is  the  East  calling  or  the  West  driving  ?  I  know  not  ; 
I  feel  like  a  piece  of  flotsam  floating  about  with  any  chance 
ciurent  diverting  its  course.  It  is  well  over  two  years  since  I 
arrived  in  this  country  and  my  last  state  is  worse  than  the  first 
as  regards  material  results  ;  and  isn't  that  about  the  only 
criterion  the  world  has  to-day  with  which  to  gauge  Success  ? 
I  don't  kick,  however,  against  Africa  ;  there's  many  a  worse 
country  than  this  and  many  a  worse  town  than  Johaimesburg. 

•'  I  have  spent  many  nights  lately  at  the  Anglo-Austrian  cafe, 
and  appreciated  very  much  the  music  after  months  on  the 
veld.  The  fair  attendants  of  the  cafe  are  still  as  haughty  as  ever, 
though  I  was  sorry  to  find  several  old  faces  missing.  Life  on  the 

331 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Rand  jogs  along  in  the  usual  way.  The  manager  of  the  G 

mine  and  half  his  staff  all  got  sacked  the  other  day.  The  expenses 
were  too  high,  owing  to  the  mine  having  been  badly  worked  for 
years.  As  in  bridge,  when  in  doubt  you  play  trumps  ;  so  in  Rand 
mining — when  in  doubt  {i.e.  when  the  mine  does  not  pay)  you 
saek  the  manager  and  his  staff.  It  is  quite  simple  ! 

"  I  am  enclosing  you  a  literary  ebullition,  which  represents  the 
experiences  of  your  aristocratic  brother  during  the  months  of 
]\Iay  and  June  when  he  was  running  a  bottle  store  in  Johannes- 
burg, During  -May  I  was  learning  the  job  under  the  instructions 
of  the  manager — and  the  job  wanted  some  learning  I  can  assure 
you.  During  June  I  was  alone  in  my  glory— a  full-fledged  bottle- 
store  keeper  ! 

"  In  the  very  unlikely  case  of  you  not  being  aware  as  to  what 
a  bottle  store  is  in  this  country  I  will  tell  you.  In  other  words,  it 
is  a  wholesale  and  retail  wine  shop^ — no  drinks  allowed  on  the 
premises,  barring,  of  course,  those  of  the  manager  and  his  thirsty 
f  rieiids,  and  a  few  '  bums,'  such  as  some  of  the  members  of  the 

C.I.D.,  which,  being  interpreted,  means  the  Criminal  Invent! 

no,  I  mean — Investigation  Department.  The  job  of  running  a 
large  bottle  store  gives  one  a  pretty  good  insight  into  the  inorals, 
or  lack  of  them,  of  the  man  and  woman  of  the  town.  One  becomes 
a  good  judge  of  liuman  nature.  I  tru>tcd  many  a  hard-looking 
case  in  my  bottle  store  for  a  bottle  of  whisky,  and  very  seldom 
was  my  trust  misplaced  ;  but  I  found  the  bulk  of  the  respectable 
women,  or,  in  other  words,  the  well-dressed  ones,  and  school- 
masters in  Johannesburg  were  amongst  tliosc  I  could  not  trust 
—and,  of  coui'se,  Australians.^  Women  as  a  rule  seem  to  have  a 
pretty  warj^cd  sense  of  honour.  The  avei'age  woman  will  cheat 
at  caj'ds  witli  as  much  readiness  as  slie  will  do  you  down  for 
a  '  tiekey  '  in  yoiu'  bottle  stoj'e.  Of  course,  if  you  suggest  that 
they  are  dislionourable  they  are  highly  indignant.  1  recall  as  I 
am  writing  an  instance  of  a  glib-n)outhed  lady  coming  into  my 

'  I  refer  to  the  Australian  one  rubs  shoulders  with  in  Africa  and  in  other 
parts  of  the  world.  Xol  having  been  to  Australia,  it  is  unnecessary  for  me 
to  say  that  I  make  no  reference  to  the  real  Australian. 


IS  EAST  CALLING  OPv  AVEST  DIIIVIXG  ? 

store  one  morning,  smiling  sweetly,  doubtless  thinking  easily  to 
deeeive  the  guileless-looking  youth  behind  the  counter.  '  Oh ! 
good-morning  !  Will  you  trust  me  for  a  lx)tt]e  of  whisky  ?  ' 
'  No  !  I  won't  ;  you  owe  me  sixpence,'  was  my  abrupt  retort. 
]\Iy  memory  is  pretty  retentive.  A  storm  of  indignant  protests 
I  cut  short  by  remarking,  '  I  will  let  you  off  your  sixpence,  but 
I  will  not  trust  you  for  a  bottle  of  whisky.  Good-morning.' 

'■  One  unsavoury  business  into  which  I  obtained  an  insight  was 
the  Illicit  Liquor  Traffic — i.e.  selling  liquor  to  the  natives.  Fortun- 
ately my  store  was  owned  by  a  clean  firm  which  did  not  cater 
for  such  a  business,  but  you  cannot  keep  clear  of  it.  This  illicit 
business  is  chiefly  in  the  liands  of  the  low  whites  of  the  town — 
cliiefly  low  Dutchmen,  and  a  few  ex-C.I.D.  men.  The  Kafirs  on 
the  mines  are  only  allowed  Kafir  beer,  which  is  quite  a  refresh- 
ing drink,  especially  on  a  hot  day  on  tlic  veld  ;  no  other  intoxi- 
cating liquors  are  allowed.  Hence  this  flourishing  traffic  !  That 
this  illicit  liquor  business  is  proiitable  one  can  easily  conclude 
from  the  fact  that  when  a  man  is  caught  at  the  game  and  gets 
six  months'  imprisonment^ — ^or,  as  he  terms  it,  goes  on  the 
Continent  for  six  months — there  are  many  to  fill  his  tempor- 
arily vacated  post.  The  iniquitous  and  despicable  system  of 
'  trapping  '  is  much  in  vogue  on  the  Rand.  The  chief  result  of 
this  system  apparently  is  the  periodical  capture  of  some  poor 
ignorant  man  or  woman,  and  in  not  a  few  cases  that  of  a  poor 
imiocent  man  or  woman.  This  '  trap  '  system  suppoj-ts  a  crowd 
of  hirelings,  recruited  from  the  '  bums  '  and  '  deadouts  '  of  the 
town,  quite  a  few  of  whom,  one  concludes,  take  a  hand  in  tlic 
gajnc  themselves.  The  chief  occupation  of  the  C.l.U.  liquor 
'tecs,  so  far  as  ]ny  little  experience  went,  seemed  to  be  tluit  of 
supporting  lamp-posts,  ostensibly  engaged  in  watching  a  bottle 
store,  and  that  of  cashing  sundry  open  cheques  for  tliirty 
shillings  or  two  pounds,  of  the  origin  of  which  it  were  better 
not  to  inquire. 

"  Large  sums  of  money  are  spent  on  drink  on  the  Rand.  1  used 
to  take  in  easfi  over  the  countei'  as  nmch  as  seven  or  eight 
hundred  pounds  in  a  month,  quite  apart  from  two  or  three 

333 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

hundred  pounds'  worth  of  family  orders.  Seventy  pounds  on  a 
Saturday  was  by  no  means  an  unusual  sum.  By  this  I  don't 
necessarily  infer  that  the  Randite  is  an  excessive  drinker — I 
don't  think  he  is — so  much  as  to  give  you  an  idea  how  densely 
populated  is  the  mining  world  of  the  Transvaal. 
"  My  literary  outburst  is  headed  : 

"  Sidelights  in  a  Bottle  Stoee 

"  pi.  stands  for  me:  L.C.  stands  for  'lady'  customer:  G.C. 
(not  J.C.)  for  'gentleman''  customer.) 

"  31.  {disturbed  whilst  having  his  early  morning  drink). — Good- 
moming  !  [Sotto  voce)  Confound  you  ! 

"L.C. — A  bottle  of  sherry,  please — Is.  3d.  [sotto  L'oce)— for 
cooking  purposes. 

'■'■Exit  '  Lady  '  idth  sherry  for  '  cooking  purposes  ' — less  Is,  3d. 
Enter  '  Gentleman  '  from  cab-rank, 
"M.  [gazing    absent-mindedly    at    an    absintJie    bottle). — Ah! 
Good-morning,  old  sport  ! 
'•'G.C.  [briefly). —The  usual. 
'OI.— Gin,  ch? 

"  G.C. — Sis,  man  ;  don't  you  know  yet  what  I  want  ?  A  half- 
flask  of  Johnny  Walker,  of  course. 

"M.  [handing  flask  of  precious  Scotch). — You  owemeatickey 
from  last  week — shall  I  take  it  out  of  this  ?  Well,  all  right !  don't 
forget  it  ! 

"  Exit '  Gentleman  '  to  cab-rank.  ^1  tap  is  heard  at  the  back  door. 
]M.  takes  a  flask  of  ichisky,  disappears,  and  shortly  returns 
with  2s.  Gd. 
'■\1  happy  policeman  is  seen  later  with  a  smile  on  Jiis  face  in 
Market  Square.    Enter    '  Lady  '  :    face    familiar,    slightly 
flushed. 
"L.C. — A  bottle  of  ^bei'i'v.  please — Is.  3d.  [sotto  voce) — for 
cooking  puipu.^c:b. 

''Exit  ■  Lauv  "  with  6hci'ry'--lc6S  1-..  3d. 

->J4 


IS  EAST  CALLING  OR  WEST  DRIVING  ? 

"  Enters  '  bum  ' ;  is  recognised  as  such  ;  wants  a  free  drink  ;  doesnH 

get  it — exit  cursing  eloquently. 
''  Enter  '  stiff  ' ;  is  not  recognised  as  an  illicit  Dop  buyer.  Re- 
ceives   six   bottles    of   '  Doj)  '    brandy.    Cash    and    lengthy 
explanation  of  birthday-party  on  a  farm  duly  received. 
''Enter  Schoolmaster.  M.  gathers  together  his  wits:  he  knows 
this  tribe. 
"  G.C. — Bottle  of  Dewar's — Imperial — please.  I  will  look  in 
later  and  pay. 

"M.  (aside). — Oh  !  will  you  !  I  don't  think  you  will  !  (Aloud) 
I  am  sorry  I  have  no  authority  to  give  credit. 

"  G.C.  (indignantly). — Oh  !  But,  I  say,  Mr  B laiows  me 

well  :  I  have  often  purchased  from  him. 

"jNI.  (aside).- — ^I  am  quite  sure  B does  know  you  well — a 

little  too  well.  (Aloud  and  very  suavely)  Quite  so  ! 

"  G.C.  (producing  6s.  6d.). — It  will  be  a  longtime  before  I  come 
here  again. 

"jNI.  (wrapping  up  bottle,  after  putting  the  coin  into  the  till). — 
Quite  so  ! 

''Exit  Schoolmaster  with  whisky  to  his  duty  of  imparting 
a  moral  training  to  the  youths  of  the  town. 
"Enter  another  G.C.  who,  however,  thinks  he  is  J.C. 
"  G.C.  (loftily). — Ah. !  send  the  usual  round. 
"  jM.  (wondering  who  the  deuce  the  bounder  25).— Certainly — and 
what  did  you  say  your  name  was  ? 

"  G.C. — Oh  !  Ah  !  Brown,  Mistah  Pondesbury  Brown. 
"jM.  (cvith  continued  tact). — Ah  !  Yes,  quite  ! — and  what — did 
you  say  your  address  was  ? 

"  G.C.--Oh  !  Ah  !  50  Stanley  Mansions.  Ah  ! 
•'M. — Quite  ! — ^and  what — did  you  say  you  wanted  ? 
"G.C.  (witJi  a  look  of  unutterable  weariness). — Oh  !  Ah  !  six 
bottles  of  beali  ! 

"M.    (with   a  resigned  sort   of   expression). — Heavens!    Oh! 
All  right  ! 

'•Exit  Mistah.  Pondesbury  Brown  to  smash  the  girls  in  Vritchard 

Street. 
655 


A  wanderp:r's  trail 

"  After  a  short  interval,  during  which  time  i\I.  samples  the  stock 
and  turns  azcay  a  '  coloured  '  gentleman  who  swears  he  is  a 
Portuguese,  Enter  L.C.,  a  regular  '  gin- customer.' 
"M. — Good-moming  !  Half  ? 
'•L.C.— Yes,  please.  He!  He!  {Laugh.)  You  are  beginning  lo 

know  nie  now.  Ah  !  I  reinenibei'  '\^■}len  my  poor  husband  .  .  . 

{Here  ensues  a  lengthy  conversation  on  the  merits  and  demerits  oj 

the   departed  husband:   during   i^hich  jM.  periodically   remarks 

"  Quite  !  "  thereby  saving  mucli  energy.)  Exit  the  "  gin  "  lady, 

less  2s.  6d. 

"Enter  L.C. — rather  a  nice  girl!  M.  looks  interesled. 
•'L.C.  {vivaciously). — Six  bottles  of  champagne,  please.  Will 

you  seiid  them  round  to  my  flat  ?  Soon  ?  {With  a  sweet  smile.) 

Put  them  down  to  ]Mr  Softhead,  won't  you  ;  he  gave  instructions, 

didn't  he  ? 

'•  31.  {discreetly). — Oh  yes,  that  is  so  !  Well,  did  }'Ou  win  at  the 

races  on  Saturday  ?  .  .  .  {Here  follows  a  purely  private  conversation, 

unfortunately  disturbed  by  the  Is.  3d.  sherry  'Lauy'  returning— 

her  third  visit !) 

''Exit  the  friend  of  Mr  Softhead,  carefully  avoiding  the  sherry 

'  Lady.' 
'•L.C  {very  flushed  and  slightly  unsteady ;  holds  firmly  to  the 

counter  for  support  and  speaks  distinctly  hoarse). — A  bottle  of 

shei'ry,  please.  One  sh-sh-shilling  and  tic-tickey.  {With  distinct 

emphasis.)  For  cooking  ])ui'poscs  !  {And  indignantly)  I  wish  they 

would  fetch  it  foi'  themselves. 

"  Exit  good  danw,  still  vainly  endeavouring  to  appear  sober. 

''Enter  3L'.v  brother,  zcho  takes  a  great  interest  in  his  brother's 
work  ;  more  so  t/ian  he  has  ever  done  before.  lie  ivatchcs  with 
an  amused  smile  his  younger  brother  struggling  to  make  three 
bottles  of  beer  apjjcar  in  the  guise  of  a  piano  !  This  in  accord- 
(uicc  -with  the  eomi/iands  of  the  dif-tinguished  I-.C.  standing 
by,  who  '  really  canl.  be  seen,  carrying  beah. !  donciier 
knozc' 

''Seven,  o'cloch'  strikes  !  AL  h)cks  his  cash  uj) :  ir fuses  admittance 
to  a  drunken  C.l.D.   and   a    "  tojj  '  ;    has  a  farewell  drink 


IS  EAST  CALLING  OR  WEST  DRIVING  ? 

be j ore  shutting  up  the  store,  and  departs  to  '  BlacJdngs  '  for 
his  dinner. 

"  Having  concluded  this  literary  effort,  now  for  a  few  words 
about  my  doings  after  leaving  the  store. 

"  I  left  Johannesburg  early  in  July  for  Durban,  arriving  there 
after  a  twenty-four  hours'  journey.  The  train  was  full  to  over- 
flowing with  merry  Randites  bound  for  a  seaside  trip  to  Durban, 
which  is  to-day  the  Brighton  of  Africa.  I  took,  therefore,  a 
'  second '  ticket,  tipped  the  guard  a  half-sovereign,  and  travelled 
'  first  '^ — thereby  saving  a  pound.  Experience  again  !  Just  one 
solitary  pal  saw  me  off.  Him  I  met  quite  by  accident  during  the 
afternoon  in  Eloff  Street,  so  I  remarked  casually :  '  Come  and 
have  a  farewell  drink.'  '  Whither  bound  ?  '  he  asked.  '  China,' 
1  briefly  replied.  He  gazed  at  me  for  a  moment,  thinking  I  was 
joking  ;  but  as  he  knew  something  about  my  former  pilgrimages 
he  slowly  digested  the  information  and  accompanied  me  to  have 
a  drink.  After  a  short  chat  I  remarked  :  '  I  must  be  leaving  you 
now  as  I  want  to  pack  my  things  ;  my  train  leaves  at  seven 
to-night.'  ]My  companion  gazed  at  me  for  a.  moment,  then  slowly 
replied  :  '  Of  all  the  coolest  beggars  I  have  ever  met  you  are 
the  limit  !  You  first  casually  inform  me  that  you  are  leaving 
for  China  to-night,  and  now — it's  past  four — you  say  you  must 
start  to  pack.  Anyone  would  think  you  were  bound  for  a  week- 
end trip  instead  of  to  the  opposite  corner  of  the  globe.'  I 
suppose  to  otlicrs  it  would  seem  a  big  proposition  ;  but  to  mc, 
now,  it's  nothing  mucli  more  than  a  trip  to  Krugcrsdorp  ;  I  am 
so  used  to  it. 

"  My  capital  for  this  trip  is  just  fifty  pounds.  I  am  going  first 
to  India,  as  I  liave  half  an  idea  I  might  get  the  opportunity  to 
anchor  there,  thougli  I  '  bank  '  on  nothing  now.  It  will  cost 
me  twenty  pounds  to  get  as  far  as  India  ;  there  is,  unfortunately, 
Tio  opportunity  to  work  my  way  across.  I  am  due  in  Japan — 
weil,  \\\\Qn  I  get  there  !  ^ly  idea,  if  nothijig  turns  up  on  the  way, 
is  to  resume  teaching  in  Tokio  and  do  there  also  a  bit  of  writing  ; 
1  might  go  to  the  length  of  writing  a  book  on  my  wanderings  if 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

my  depleted  stock  of  energy  does  not  completely  evaporate 
before.  It  should  be  an  object  lesson  to  the  yomig  man  of  the 
Western  world  never  to  leave  the  beaten  path  of  Life.  When  I 
was  last  in  Japan  I  was  held  up  to  the  young  men  of  Nippon  as 
an  object  lesson  of  enterprise — an  object  lesson  to  be  copied  ; 
to-day  I  very  much  doubt  whether  such  would  be  the  case. 

"  It  was  only  with  the  greatest  difhculty  I  could  obtain  a  room 
when  I  reached  Durban,  so  packed  to  overflowing  was  this 
seaside  town.  Its  surf -bathing  and  lovely  beach  yearly  attract 
thousands  of  jaded  .Johanncsljurgers.  On  the  night  of  my  arrival 
I  visited  nearly  every  hotel  in  the  town  before  I  got  a  bed. 
Such  a  conversation  as  this  was  quite  usual :  '  Any  rooms  ?  ' 
'  No  !  sorry,  full  up  !  '  I  v/ould  then  continue  :  '  Oil  !  I  am  not 
particular;  any  shakedown  will  do?'  'My  dear  sir,'  would 
be  the  weary  reply,  '  there  are  already  three  men  on  the  billiard 
table  and  on.c  on  eacli  bath  ;  not  an  inch  of  room  is  there  on  the 
stoep — so  where  can  I  put  you  ?  '  Tlie  ten  days  here  have  been 
most  delightful  and  I  am  feeling  all  the  better  for  the  change. 

"  Yesterday  I  spent  an  enjoyable  day  at  the  whaling  station, 
and  caught  sight  of  about  three  huge  sharks  hacking  away 
at  a  whale  close  by  the  slipway.  One — a  little  too  bold — got 
harpooned  ;  and,  by  Jove  !  he  took  some  killing.  All  the  bathing 
here  is  in  enclosed  areas  as  the  sea  is  infested  with  sharks  ;  but 
it  is  nevertheless  most  delightful. 

"You  mustn't,  however,  regard  Durban  as  merely  a  seaside 
resort  for  Johannesburg  ;  for  it  is  quite  a  busy  seaport.  Coaling 
is  a  big  feature,  many  tramps  putting  in  here  for  supplies. 
Durban  will  coal  a  big  tramp  with  a  couple  of  thousand  tons  in 
the  space  of  a  few  hours. 

'•Rickshaws  drawn  by  weirdly-painted  and  iiorned  Zulus  arc 
much  in  evidence  in  the  streets,  but,  in  my  mind,  noi:ie  save  a 
Japanese  knows  how  to  run  in  a  rickshaw  properly. 

'■The  colony  of  Natal  is  the  soundest  colony  of  the  Union,  at 
least  from  an  economic  point  of  view.  It  is  not  like  the  one- 
industricd  Tjanvsaal,  as  many  profitable  industries  are  yearly 
springing  into  importance.  Sugar,  tea  (rotten  stuff  at  present), 


IS  EAST  CALLI]NG  OR  WEST  DRIVING  ? 

tobacco  (Natal  cigars  are  quite  good),  fruit  and  the  wattle 
(for  tanning  purposes)  are  just  a  few  of  the  products  of  Natal 
to-day.  I  went  the  other  day  to  an  agricultural  show  and  it  was 
well  worth  a  visit,  as  it  gave  one  a  good  idea  of  the  agricultural 
possibilities  of  this  colony. 

"  Well,  brother  mine,  I  bid  you  a  long  farewell.  I  have  not  the 
faintest  idea  where  I  shall  be  in  six  month's  time  ;  and  enire 
nous  I  don't  much  care.  I  am  getting  very  tired  of  it  all  ;  of 
being  kicked  around  and  of  being  made  a  football  of  by  Fate. 
But  it  is  the  Aftermath  of  Wanderlust.  Don't  you  stir  from  the 
cage  ;  beat  your  wings  against  the  bars  rather  than  fly  away  ! 
Yours  ever, 

"Arthur." 

And  this  last  is  my  advice  to  the  young  and  restless  reader. 


339 


CHAPTER  XIII 

UP    THE    EAST    AFRICAN    COAST   TO    ZANZIBAR 

AT  noon  on  tlie  21st  ol  July  the  s.s.  Somali  steamed  across 
the  bar  of  Durban  Harbour  for  India.  I  was  the  only 
through  passenger;  the  others  wei'e  mostly  bomid  for 
Delagoa  Bay  and  Beira  ;  most  of  them  were  mining  men  or 
traders  going  up  to  Rhodesia.  We  were  a  cheerful  ])arty,  all  of  us 
having  seen  a  good  bit  of  the  world  and  incidentally  nmch  of  the 
hard  side  of  it  ;   so  we  got  on  famously  together. 

^Ve  kept  the  Natal  coast  in  sight  all  that  day  and  the  day 
following,  till  towards  evening  British  coastland  gave  place 
to  that  of  Portuguese  East  Africa.  Wc  sighted  Cape  Inyak  by 
sundown  aiid  entered  Delagoa  Bay  when  it  was  dai'k,  anchoiing 
late  in  the  evcniiig  off  the  town  of  Lourenyo  ^[arqucs.  From  our 
ship  we  could  hear  faintly  the  strains  of  the  baud  playii\g  on 
the  plaza,  the  lights  of  which  looked  ^'c)'y  pictuicsque  iji  tlie 
distance. 

The  following  day  a  smaU  party  oJ'  us  weiit  asiioic  to  visit 
the  town,  which  at  the  time  of  our  \isit  was  gaily  decorated,  the 
gahi  season  being  on.  Lourcn^o  Marques  possesses  one  of  the 
hncst  harboui'.s  in  Afiica,  the  anchoi'agc  of  Delagoa  Bay  extciid- 
ino;  for  a  length  of  seven  uiih's,  witJi  widtli  nearlv  one  mile. 

Tlie  climate  of  Delagoa  Jiay  is  better  tlian  it  used  to  he  a 
decade  or  two  back,  owing  to  the  extensive  diaijiage  of  the  town's 
environs  ;  but  there  is  still  room  for  improvement.  Our  \\s\i  w  as 
not  many  months  aftei'  the  declaration  of  the  Portuguese  Re- 
public, and  we  caught  sight  of  the  new  Hag.  The  town  ot  Loiireuyo 
Marcjues  is  ty})ieally  Portuguese  -broad  roads  shaded  \)\  luws 
of  t  I'ces.  \\iiite  fiieaded  buildings  of  rather  pretentious  design, 
and  un  the  sea  front  tlie  iiK;\itable  plaza  with  its  bandstand. 

J4W 


UP  THE  EAST  AFRICAN  COAST  TO  ZANZIBAR 

We  sailed  at  noon  for  our  next  port  of  call — Inhambane — and 
sio'hted  Cape  Burra  within  twenty-fom-  hours  of  our  departure, 
the  coast  all  the  way  up  being  low,  sandy  and  barren  in  appear- 
ance. Shortly  after  noon  the  pilot  of  the  port,  a  native,  boarded 
us,  took  charge  and  handled  the  ship  in  a  most  skilful  manner. 
Tlic  passage  into  the  harbour  of  Inhambane  is  very  difficult 
to  navigate,  owing  to  a  continually  shifting  sand-bar  at  the 
entrance  ;  to  enter  it  by  night  would  be  to  court  disaster.  The 
ship  had  to  make  several  twists  and  turns  to  avoid  the  mud- 
banks  before  the  deep-water  channel,  marked  by  white  beacons, 
was  reached.  Entering,  we  sighted  two  dead  whales  moored  to  a 
buoy,  and  I  learnt  there  was  a  small  whaling  station  at  this  port. 
The  bay  was  picturesque,  its  shining  waters  being  dotted  with 
the  white  sails  of  many  coasting  dhows.  Just  before  sunset  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  little  town  of  Inhambane,  which  was  com- 
pletely hidden  from  us  when  we  were  outside  the  bar.  It  looked 
vci-y  pretty  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  :  the  red-tiled  houses, 
white-fronted,  nestling  amidst  thick  groves  of  green  waving 
palms  and  other  ti'opical  vegetation,  made  an  attractive  picture. 
A  pier  three  hundred  feet  in  length  jutted  out  from  the  shore, 
but  the  water  was  far  too  shallow  to  permit  any  deep-sea  ship 
to  come  alongside  ;  in  fact  at  low  tide  there  remained  only  a 
foot  or  two.  One  other  steamer  and  a  small  sailing  ship  lay  at 
anchor  off  the  toAvn,  and  during  the  following  day  a  Portuguese 
steamer  arrived  from  the  north  and  shipped  a  batch  of  coolies  for 
the  mines  in  the  Transvaal.  The  districts  round  Inhambane 
were  denseh'  populated,  as  is  also  the  district  of  Gazaland  to 
the  south  ;  both  supply  a  large  number  of  natives  for  the  Rand. 
A  few  of  us  "  did  "  the  little  town  the  next  day.  At  least  we 
roamed  round  the  small  settlement  and  visited  the  native  loca- 
tions, till  the  heat  and  the  smell  drove  us  on  board  again.  We  all 
decided  that  Inhambane  at  a  distance  was  infinitely  preferable 
to  Inliambane  at  close  quarters.  The  pretentious  style  of  archi- 
tecture and  the  dilatoriness  in  the  officials  were  typically  Portu- 
guese. It  took  us  ovei-  one  hour  to  buy  a  few  postage  stamps  for 
our  mail,  and  in  the  end  some  of  us  got  stamps  for  nothing,  so 

341 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

confused  was  the  Portuguese  staff  over  the  exchange  of  money. 
Anyone  might  liave  thought  that  we  were  the  first  party  of 
foreigners  that  had  ever  entered  Inhambane  with  Enghsh  coin. 

Right  beliind  the  town  was  a  large  nabivc  location,  peopled  by 
the  Myamba  tribe.  Their  little  huts  were  erected  amidst  waving 
palms,  and  but  for  the  insanitary  conditions  of  the  location  and 
the  consequent  unhealthy  smell  one  would  have  appreciated 
the  picturesqueness  of  the  scene.  In  the  intense  heat,  however, 
we  were  only  too  glad  to  get  away  and  seek  a  cafe,  where  we 
ordered  tea — ^to  the  open  disgust  of  the  proprietor  !  It  was  then 
about  eleven  o'clock,  and  we  had  the  opportunity  of  watching 
the  Portuguese  residents  stroll  in  for  breakfast.  Half-castes  of 
all  shades  were  largely  noticeable,  I  think  one  of  the  reasons 
that  the  Portuguese  will  never  be  very  successful  in  maintaining 
their  prestige  in  their  African  colonies  is  their  free  intercourse 
with  the  native,  the  Portuguese  official  making  no  attempt  to 
pi'eserve  the  purity  of  his  race. 

Having  finished  our  refreslmient,  we  took  a  short  stroll  along 
the  front  before  returning  to  the  ship.  We  visited  an  old  Arab 
temple,  which  recalled  to  my  mind  memories  of  the  once- 
powerful  race  that  formerly  controlled  most  of  the  trade  of  this 
coast.  Inhambane  is  one  of  the  oldest  established  settlements  of 
the  Portuguese  in  the  Mozambique  district.  Tlic  Portuguese 
arrived  on  tliis  coast,  famed  for  gold,  as  early  as  1497,  and  drove 
out  the  Arabs.  The  first  fort  was  erected  in  Mozambique  Island 
in  1508,  and  the  town  of  Mozambique  was  afterwards  made  the 
capital  of  the  province.  Portuguese  East  Africa  is  now  divided 
for  administration  purposes  into  two  separate  districts — Mozam- 
bique disti'iet  in  tlio  north,  and  that  of  Lourenco  Marques  in  the 
south,  which  includes  the  territory  of  Inhambane. 

We  luid  to  wait  for  the  tide  before  we  could  leave,  as  much  of 
the  hay  at  low  water  consisted  of  exposed  mud-ljanks  which 
smelt  most  abominably  in  the  heat  of  tlie  day.  Inhambane 
district  is  considered  nevertheless  to  be  the  healthiest  in  the 
colony ;  it  doesn't  say  much  for  tlie  rest  ! 

Late  in  the  ofternooTi  we  got  away  and  steamed  north.  All 

342 


UP  THE  EAST  AFRICAN  COAST  TO  ZANZIBAR 

the  day  following  we  kept  the  mainland  in  sight  ;  it  was  still 
low,  sandy  and  baven  in  appearance.  The  lights  of  Beira 
showed  up  by  evening  and  we  anchored  outside  this  port  at 
midnight.  At  daybreak  we  steamed  into  the  harbour. 

Beira  has  ahead  unlimited  prospects.  A  few  years  should  see 
it  the  foremost  port  of  Africa.  Beira  owes  much  to  its  geo- 
graphical position  ;  for  it  is  the  port  of  entry  for  North  Rhodesia 
and  will  soon  be  for  the  copper  mines  of  Katanga,  in  Belgian 
Congo  ;  it  also  taps  the  Portuguese  territory  of  Manicaland. 
Further,  it  will  not  be  long  before  it  is  the  port  of  British 
Central  Africa.  But,  unfortunately,  Beira  is  in  the  possession 
of  one  of  the  most  dilatory  nations  of  the  world.  Proof  of  this 
was  given  us  not  long  after  the  Somali  dropped  her  anchor. 
It  appeared  that  a  few  motor  launches  had  the  monopoly  of 
conveying  passengers  between  the  shore  and  the  vessels  lying 
in  the  harbour,  so  I  experienced  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
regaining  my  ship  at  night-time  after  having  spent  the  day 
ashore,  as  not  a  launch  was  to  be  seen  and  no  other  craft  was 
permitted  to  carry  any  passengers.  This  fact  alone  illustrated 
to  me  the  methods  that  controlled  the  port. 

The  name  of  Beira  means  "  sand  "  and  the  town  is  in  no  way 
misnamed.  I  heard  Beira  termed  a  place  of  "tin  roofs  and 
sand  "  ;  and  really  one  has  not  much  to  add  to  tliis  in  the  way 
of  description.  The  roads  are  a  foot  deep  in  sand,  on  which  it  is 
impossible  to  walk  for  any  length  of  time ;  the  chief  way  the 
residents  move  about  is  by  the  rather  unique  method  of  sitting 
in  a  little  trolley  which  runs  on  light  rails,  pushed  along  by 
Kafirs.  In  appearance  the  little  trolley  is  as  like  a  garden  seat 
on  wheels  as  is  possible.  Three  of  us  got  into  one  of  these 
conveyances — a  tight  squeeze  ! — and  were  propelled  hy  one 
native  ;  once  the  car  was  on  the  move  little  effort  was  neces- 
sary to  keep  it  going.  For  a  progressive  and  go-ahead  town  like 
Beira  this  method  seems  rather  primitive  ;  yet  it  is  rather  hard 
to  suggest  a  better  substitute  as  the  streets  are  too  narrow  for 
trams.  The  outskirts  of  the  town  are  pretty — at  least  in  contrast 
with  the  town  itself.  The  palm,  which  always  seems  to  thrive 

343 


A  WAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

M-ell  on  sand}'  soil,  is  very  conspicuous.  But  Beira  is  the  bleakest 
place  on  the  East  African  coast.  A  golf-course  and  a  small 
sti'ctcli  of  beach  allow  the  residents  some  little  relaxation, 
though  Beira  is  far  from  being,  as  some  would  suggest,  the 
health  and  holiday  resort  for  jaded  Rhodesians. 

Our  passengers  left  the  ship  here  on  their  way  to  Rhodesia, 
and  I  wos  left  solitary  on  board.  In  tlie  company,  however,  of 
the  extremely  well-read  and  cultured  Gei-man  captoin  I  passed 
many  pleasant  hours  and  never  felt  time  Jiang  lieavily  on  mv 
hands.  He  possessed  a  splendid  knowledge  ol  the  English 
language,  as  did  nearly  every  other  officer  on  })oard  ;  iiideed 
his  knowledge  of  our  English  classics  was  as  deep  as  mv 
acquaintance  with  German  writei's  was  shallow. 

Leaving  Beira  on  the  afternoon  of  the  28t]i  v/c  passed  Chinde 
during  the  night.  This  latter  port  is  too  shallow  to  admit  deep- 
sea  ships,  so  the  German  East  African  line  lias  a  small  steamer 
on  the  station  running  to  and  fro  from  Beij'a  witli  passengers 
and  mail,  and  specially  built  to  cross  the  bai'.  Chinde  l<  tlie 
present  seaport  for  British  Central  Africa,  but  wlW  soon  be 
superseded  by  Beira. 

On  tlie  31st  we  sighted  the  island  of  ^Mozambique,  on  whieli  is 
situated  the  town  of  tliat  name,  the  former  capital  of  Portuguese 
East  Africa.  Since  the  departure  of  tlie  Governor-General  for 
Delagoa  Bay  the  trade  of  ^Mozambique  lias  diminished,  and 
tlie  island  offers  but  small  inducement  to  steamers  to  call. 
From  a  historical  point  of  view  the  island  and  town  are  intei'cst- 
ing,  as  the  palace  is  nearly  three  hundred  yeai's  old,  whilst  tlie 
Fort  of  Ft  Sebastian  is  older  still.  Steaming  north,  still  skirting 
the  land,  ^^•e  })assed  the  island  of  Ibo,  anothei'  small  Portuguese 
settlement  off  the  coast.  Portuguese  coastland  tlien  gave  place 
to  the  shores  of  German  East  Africa,  tlie  River  Ptoviiiua  lieing 
the  bouudai}-  between  the  two  territories.  After  live  days' 
steamiiig  from  Beira  we  sighted  tlie  island  of  Zanzibar,  ojf  v.'hich 
we  anchoi'cd  on  the  evening  of  the  .3rd. 

The  island  of  Zanziliarlies  about  lifteen  miles  off  the  mainland, 
and  is  about  twenty-seven  miles  at  its  broadest  part.  Numerous 

344 


UP  THE  EAST  AFRICAN  COAST  TO  ZANZIBAR 

coral  islands  and  reefs  (at  some  future  date  to  grow  into  coral 
islands)  dot  the  bay  on  all  sides.  The  town  lies  on  the  west  side  of 
the  island  ;  and  its  f '^ontage  of  white  houses  and  public  buildings, 
conspicuous  among  which  is  the  Sultan's  palace,  makes  an 
imposing  picture.  Numerous  Arab  dhows,  flying  many  different 
flags,  the  red  flag  of  the  Sultan  being  especially  noticeable,  lie 
along  the  beach.  A  large  number  of  the  buildings  are  painted 
yellow  to  signify  that  they  are  the  property  of  the  Sultan,  or,  as 
I  revise  these  lines,  of  the  late  Sultan. ^ 

Since  1890  the  island  of  Zanzibar  and  that  of  Pemba  have 
been  under  British  protection.  That  year  saw  the  abolition  of 
slaveiy — a  distinctly  doubtful  blessing  for  the  clove  trade  of 
the  island.  In  1896  the  bombardment  of  the  town  took  place 
as  the  I'esult  of  an  attempt  to  usurp  the  Sultan's  throne.  The 
top  of  the  Sultan's  gunboat,  sunk  during  the  action,  is  still 
visible  in  the  bay  off  the  town. 

The  mainstay  of  the  island  is  the  cultivation  of  cloves. 
Ninety  per  cent,  of  the  world's  supply  comes  from  the  islands 
of  Zanzibar  and  Pemba.  In  the  clove  industry  to-day  the  one 
great  handicap  is  the  scarcity  and  irregularity  of  the  supply  of 
native  labour.  The  mainland  which  at  one  time  made  up  the 
labour  deficiency  of  Zanzibar  Island  now  needs  most  of  its 
labour  for  its  own  industries.  Though  the  island  is  well  supplied 
with  natives  (the  last  census  returning  two  hundred  and  fifty 
tliousaiid  ]ieople  ]'esident  in  the  island,  of  whom  the  greater 
part  are  Swahilis),  the  drudgery  of  the  work  of  picking  the 
cloves,  coupled  with  the  general  laziness  of  the  native,  result 
in  a  gi'eat  shortage  of  lal^our  in  the  plantations  ;  and  this  means 
that  a  good  percentage  of  the  crop  is  never  gatliered  in.  It  is  not 
therefore  to  be  wondered  at  that  many  Arab  owners  lament 
the  jtassing  away  of  the  "  good  old  slave  days."  IMany  of  the 
],)la!)tations,  formerly  owned  by  wealthy  Arabs,  are  now  in  the 
liaiids  of  Indians  ;  and  in  the  case  of  those  that  are  still  owned 
})y  the  Arabs  the  cr()})s  are  in  many  instances  mortgaged  far 
ahead.  Indians,  chiefly  Banyans  and  Goanese,  are  gathei'ing  a 
^  Zanzibar  was  taken  over  by  the  Colonial  Office  in  July  1913- 

345 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

great  deal  of  the  trade  of  the  island  in  their  hands  ;  and  there 
is  to-day  an  Indian  bazaar  in  Zanzibar  town  that  would  not 
disgraee  a  large  city  in  India. 

The  bulk  of  the  cloves  grown  on  the  island  of  Pemba  goes  to 
the  home  and  continental  markets,  together  with  a  good  deal  of 
the  Zanzibar  crop  ;  the  balance  is  shipped  to  Bombay. 

Of  the  many  foreign  hotels  that  used  to  flourish  in  Zanzibar 
a  decade  ago  but  one  remains  to-day.  Further,  most  of  the  old 
established  Anglo-Indian  houses,  which  formerly  had  branches 
in  the  island,  have  closed  them,  owing  to  the  decline  in  the 
island's  trade.  Zanzibar  used  to  be  the  distributing  centre  for  all 
the  trade  of  this  part  of  the  African  coast,  but  the  growth  on  the 
mainland  of  the  ports  of  Mombasa  and  Dar-es-Salaam,  combined 
with  other  causes,  have  greatly  decreased  its  trade. 

I  paid  a  visit  to  Bu-Bu-Bu,  where  many  of  the  above  planta- 
tions are  ;  it  is  connected  by  rail  with  the  town  of  Zanzibar. 
The  line  v/as  laid  down  by  an  American  company,  which  also 
controls  the  electric  lighting  of  the  town.  A  little  Baldwin 
engine,  with  a  bell  clanging  furiously,  was  attached  to  the  train. 
The  line  first  runs  along  the  front,  overlooking  tlic  bay  and  the 
shipping  ;  then  througli  the  mai'kct  street,  which  is  so  narrow 
that  a  gorilla  in  the  train  could  j'cach  out  and  pick  any  article 
from  off  the  little  sjiops  tliat  line  either  side.  I  cauglit  sight  of  all 
sorts  of  goods,  f  lom  calico  print  to  earthenwai'e  pots,  from  coral 
beads  to  bundles  of  evil-smelling  copra,  displayed  for  sale.  We 
passed  by  tailors  sewing  industriously,  barbers  diligently 
shaving  lieads,  convicts  in  yellow  garb  with  clanking  leg-irons 
working  resigncdl}'  in  tlu;  streets.  All  sorts  of  humanity  were 
jabbering,  spitting,  gesticulating  and  gossiping  ! 

After  the  train  had  taken  us  through  the  crowded  market  we 
skirted  the  edge  of  tiie  island,  which  gave  us  an  uninterrupted 
view  of  the  sweep  of  blue  sea  dotted  with  white  sails.  On  tJie 
other  side  were  to  Ije  seen  tliick  groves  of  ])alms  and  banyan 
trees  with  thatched  native  huts  scattered  here  and  there. 
Solitary  and  melancholy  camels  stood  motionless  on  the  white 
sandy  beach. 

34^ 


UP  THE  EAST  AFRICAN  COAST  TO  ZANZIBAR 

We  passed  numerous  mosques  and  Indian  temples,  old  Arab 
houses  and  palaces  in  ruins — relics  of  the  rSgime  of  a  once- 
powerful  race  ;  over  small  coral-stone  bridges  which  spanned 
small  streams,  sliaded  by  groves  of  towering  yet  slender  palms  ; 
beside  small  lagoons  and  long  stretches  of  white  beach,  littered 
with  craft  of  all  kinds.  Stopping  here,  stopping  there,  taking  on 
black-garbed  Mohammedans,  white-gowned  Swahilis  with  red 
fcz-caps,  dark-visaged  Arabs — all  spitting  betel-nut  juice,  we 
eventually  reached  the  clove  plantations. 

The  clove  grows  on  large  leafy  trees,  thirty  feet  or  more  in 
height.  A  clove  plantation  is  a  small  forest  and  a  most  sweet- 
smelling  one.  Ten  years  is  the  age  necessary  for  a  tree  to  mature  ; 
then  it  bears  its  first  crop.  The  average  annual  crop  from  each 
tree  is  anywhere  from  five  to  ten  pounds,  though  I  was  told  by 
one  clove  dealer  that  a  few  ti'ees  yielded  as  much  as  one  frasla 
(35  lb.).  Ladders  are  used  on  the  big  trees,  the  cloves  being 
plucked  when  ripe  by  men,  women  and  children.  The  rate  of 
pay  for  gathering  is  so  much  per  basket,  which  contains  one 
frasla' — the  unit  employed  for  commercial  purposes.  I  should 
think  clove-picking  Avould  be  one  stage  worse  than  sti'awberry 
picking,  especially  under  a  Zanzibar  sun. 

A  ram])le  through  the  streets  of  old  Zanzibar  discloses  many 
curious  and  picturesque  sights.  The  streets  are  the  narrowest 
I  have  ever  seen  ;  indeed,  so  narrow  that  two  President  Tafts 
would  fuid  it  difficult  to  pass  one  another.  A  little  cart,  drawn 
by  a  donkey  or  an  ox,  completely  blocks  the  passages.  The  tall 
houses,  three  or  four  storeys  high,  with  sucli  narrow  streets, 
gave  me  the  impi-ession  of  Broadway,  New  York,  with  its  sky- 
scrapers. The  narrow  streets  have  one  advantage  :  they  shade 
one  from  the  intense  glare  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  in  them  the 
faint  breeze  is  felt  at  its  strongest.  Coral  stone  is  the  brick  of 
Zanzibar.  All  the  houses  arc  built  of  this  material  and  painted 
a  dazzling  white,  whose  glare,  together  with  that  of  the  white 
coral  roads,  is  very  intense.  Nearly  all  the  buildings  possess  most 
handsomely  carved  oak  doors,  heavily  studded  with  brass  knobs. 
Courtyards — typically  ]Moorish^ — with  palms  and  other  tropical 

347 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

foliage  look  most  refreshing  to  the  sweltering  passer-by-  One 
notices  many  Avindows  barred.  Through  them  one  could  just 
get  a  glimpse  of  some  artisan  at  work  ;  the  sound  of  the  silver- 
smiths' hammers  was  unceasing.  The  Oriental  and  Ethiopian 
showed  no  curiosity  on  meeting  a  European  ;  they  gave  the 
visitor  courteous  salaams  and  greetings  of  yambo  and  passed  on. 
Perhaps  one  of  the  most  interesting  sights  in  the  town  is  the 
old  Portuguese  tower,  a  relic  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  is 
still  staunch  and  strong.  The  outskirts  of  Zanzibar  are  very 
attractive  ;  the  soft  green  of  the  waving  palms  blends  with  the 
rich  tints  of  the  banyan  and  orange  trees,  shading  the  open 
spaces  and  little  native  huts. 


34« 


CHAPTER   XIV 

FROM    ZANZIBAR   TO    BOMBAY 

WE  left  Zanzibar  on  the  evening oi'  the  3rd  as  the  sun 
was  setting  and  steamed  north  towards  ^Mombasa. 
Several  Goanese  passengers  had  joined  the  steamer, 
most  of  them  being  on  their  way  home  to  India  on  leave.  We 
sighted  ^Mombasa  at  daybreak,  the  distance  from  Zanzibar  being 
only  one  hundred  and  forty  miles,  and  anchored  after  breakfast 
off  the  town,  which  lies  on  the  east  side  of  the  island.  Ships  of  too 
heavy  draught  have  to  go  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  island 
and  anchor  off  the  port  of  Kilindini,  as  the  channel  there  is 
nmch  deeper.  Navigators  here  need  all  their  wits  about  them, 
particularly  when  entering  the  eastern  channel.  A  large  freight 
steamer  piled  up  on  the  rocks  testified  to  this  ;  her  unfortunate 
captain  had  taken  too  sharp  a  turn  or  had  not  allowed  for  the 
strong  set  towards  the  shore. 

Mombasa  is  the  headquarters  of  the  East  African  Protec- 
torate Customs  and  the  centre  of  nearly  all  the  oversea  trade  of 
the  Protectorate.  It  is  a  commercial  port  of  steadily  increasing 
importance,  handling  to-day  most  of  the  imports  and  exports 
from  the  large  stretches  of  territory  in  the  interior,  which 
the  Uganda  Railway  has  done  so  much  to  open  up.  The 
district  of  Nairobi,  made  familiar  to  the  reading  public  by  the 
exploits  of  such  distinguished  hunters  as  Colonel  Roosevelt  and 
son  and  ]\Ir  Winston  Churchill,  is  a  territory  increasing  }'early 
in  value. 

The  native  town  of  Mombasa  is  similar  to  thai  of  Zanzibar, 
though  smaller.  It  is  built  right  on  the  edge  of  the  coral  shores  of 
the  island,  which  rise  sheer  from  the  water.  The  town  possesses 
a  famous  fort — now  used  as  a  prison — where  terrible  lighting 

349 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

took  place  in  the  sixteenth  century  between  the  Portuguese 
and  the  Arabs.  Through  the  courtesy  of  the  lady  matron  I 
was  permitted  to  look  over  it.  After  passing  over  the  draw- 
bridge I  entered  the  fort  by  way  of  the  massive  oak  door  studded 
with  iron ;  over  the  doorway  I  read  the  inscription  to  the 
effect  that  the  fort  was  rebuilt  by  Don  Frisco  de  Cabrena  in 
A.D.  1635.  I  viewed  the  dungeons,  where  in  the  good  old  days 
the  prisoners  were  dropped  and  kept  three  days  without  food  or 
water ;  if  alive  after  this  persuasive  treatment  they  were  pro- 
nounced innocent  !  The  old  wells,  where  the  inhabitants  used 
to  g(;t  their  water  during  a  siege,  were  aLo  an  interesting 
sight.  The  view  from  the  parapet  and  from  the  little  look-out 
towers  was  very  fine — a  clear  stretch  of  blue  sea  on  the  one 
side  and  on  the  other  a  lovely  bird's-eye  view  of  the  little  town 
with  its  background  of  tropical  verdure.  The  fort  was  built  of 
coral  rock  throughout,  some  of  the  walls  being  as  thick  as  five 
feet. 

A  stroll  through  the  European  section  of  ^Mombasa  revealed 
nothing  of  much  interest.  Here  also  I  saw  little  trolley  cars 
similar  to  these  used  in  Beira. 

We  left  Mombasa  after  a  short  stay  and  steamed  north, 
skirting  the  African  coast.  On  the  following  day  I  looked  my  last 
on  the  shores  of  that  great  Continent.  Shortly  afterwards  we  ran 
into  the  soutli-wT^t  moji^ooji,  which  kept  witli  us  till  we  reached 
India.  As  we  were  "  light-ship  "  we  rolled  a  great  deal.  We  had 
only  a  few  native  passenger.s,  chiefly  for  Goa  in  Portuguese 
India.  Siiiec  the  Xatal  regulations  with  regard  to  the  immigra- 
tion of  Indians  into  the  colony  have  conic  into  force  the  xcyx 
prolituble  lJU^iness  of  eoolie-carrying  has  been  lost  to  the  ships 
on  the  Indian  run.  Our  deck  passengers  cooked  their  food  oii 
the  deck,  permanent  galleys  being  erected  in  the  weil-deeks 
of  the  slii])  for  the  pur])ose.  Curry  and  rice  was  tlieir  staple 
di.h. 

Alter  nine  days'  steaming,  north  and  east,  we  sighted  the 
coast  of  India,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  13th  we  anchored  off 
No\'a  Gua--tJu-  eliie!'  poi't  of  Portuguese  India.  We  made  only 

J50 


FROM  ZANZIBAR  TO  BOMBAY 

a  short  stay  liere  as  wc  had  no  cargo  for  this  place,  only  the 
few  deck  passengers  from  Zanzibar. 

In  tlie  evening  we  headed  for  Bombay.  By  sundown  of  the 
following  day  we  anchored  off  that  town,  waiting  for  the  tide 
till  midnight,  when  we  docked  ;  a  heavy  monsoon  squall  bursting 
over  the  harbour  at  that  time  made  our  entrance  a  matter  of 
no  little  risk. 

To  reach  the  business  and  European  centre  of  Bombay  from 
the  docks  demands  a  gharry  ride  of  half-an-hour,  through  a 
section  of  the  native  part  of  the  town.  Numerous  godowns  and 
docks  are  passed  on  the  way,  and  ox-carts  laden  with  all  sorts 
of  produce,  the  coolie  drivers  steadily  urging  on  their  patient 
steeds  witli  sundry  prods.  The  business  section  of  Bombay  is 
handsomely  built ;  its  architecture  would  not  disgrace  any 
European  capital  ;  along  its  busy  streets  speed  motor  cars, 
carriages  and  the  hum.ble  tikka-gharry.  All  is  bustle  and  motion  ! 
When  one  recalls  the  history  of  the  town  and  island  of  Bombay, 
of  all  the  setbacks  it  had,  the  terrible  scourges  of  fever  and 
sickness  that  periodically  ravaged  the  settlement,  it  is  hard 
to  believe  that  such  a  splendid  city  could  grow  from  such 
unpromising  beginnings, 

Bombay  has  many  clubs,  all  of  which  can  supply  the  thirsty 
visitor  with  excellent  "  pegs  "  of  whisky,  and  also  many  oppor- 
tunities of  beguiling  his  leisure-time  in  comfort.  The  colour  line 
is  very  rigidly  adhered  to  in  Indian  clubs.  It  is  just  as  essential 
for  the  white  race  in  India  to  preserve  its  caste  as  it  is  for  the 
Brahmin  to  preserve  his.  And  it  would  be  well  if  visitors  in 
India  bore  this  fact  more  in  mind. 

A  visitor  strange  to  the  ways  of  the  East  would  be  surprised 
to  learn  the  hours  at  which  the  European  resident  takes  his 
meals.  lie  finds  the  merchant,  on  rising  at  seven  o'clock, 
lias  a  choia  hazri  Ijrought  to  his  bedside  by  his  white-turbaned 
servant,  that  he  breakfasts  at  nine  o'clock,  and  by  ten  is  at  his 
office  desk  ;  that  lie  will  then  '•  tiffin,"  either  at  the  club  or  at  his 
bungalow,  at  two  o'clock ;  and  will  leave  his  office  at  live,  perhaps 
later,  (The  busine-^^  man  in  India  works  ju.'^t  as  hard  as  he  does 

55^ 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

in  the  London  office.)  He  ^vill  tlien  have  a  light  afternoon  tea. 
After  a  couple  of  hours  at  the  club,  where  he  may  indulge  in  a 
rubber  of  auction  bridge,  or  a  game  or  two  of  billiards,  he  will 
dine.  It  will  then  be  about  nine  o'clock.  These  hours  may  seem 
unusual  to  the  visitor,  but  if  he  has  sense  he  will  fmd  them 
eminently  adapted  to  the  life  in  India.  In  no  country  is  it  more 
essential  to  live  by  the  axiom,  ''  Do  in  Rome  as  Rome  does," 
than  it  is  in  India. 

There  are  some  very  pleasant  drives  round  Bombay.  During 
a  drive  down  Queen's  Road  one  will  meet  many  wealthy  Indians, 
chiefly  Parsees,  riding  in  open  and  closed  carriages  on  the  road 
to  Chowpatti,  which  leads  up  to  the  steep  ascent  of  Malabar 
Hill.  After  a  drive  along  the  Ridge  the  Hanging  Gardens  are 
reached.  Here  a  perfect  view  is  obtained  of  the  sliipping  in  the 
harbour,  with  the  numerous  islands  surrounding  it,  and  the 
magnificent  sweep  of  Back  Bay.  Close  by  are  the  Parsee  Towers 
of  Silence,  into  which  you  may  enter  if  you  arc  inspired  by  an 
ambition  to  say  you  have  visited  this  famous  burial-place  whcji 
you  return  to  the  bosom  of  your  admiring  family.  Not  possessing 
the  luxury  of  an  admiring  family,  I  did  not  enter,  l)ut  contented 
myself  with  gazing  at  the  wicked-looking  vultures  waiting  for 
their  next  meal.  The\'  I'cminded  me  very  forcibl}'  of  their 
brethren  in  Africa,  which  used  to  wait  for  our  poor  hordes  to  die. 

Whilst  in  Bombay  I  confirmed  the  truth  of  Kipling's  words  : 
"  East  is  East  and  West  is  ^^'est,  aiid  never  the  twain  shall 
meet."  I  was  sitting  on  the  lawn  of  the  Yaelit  club  listening  to 
the  Ijand,  when  1  noticed  a  devout  31oluunmedan  carefully 
place  his  rug,  or  rag.  on  the  stoiie  steps  of  the  Apollo  Bunder, 
not  a  hundred  }ards  away  from  whei'e  1  was  sittiiig,  and  tiu'ning 
to  the  East  begin  to  ])ray.  To  the  tunc  oi'  "  The  (iirls  of  Gotten- 
burg  "  he  remained  at  his  devotions  engrossed  in  his  ritu;)], 
ol)livious  of  his  surrc>undings. 

My  intention  on  my  arrival  in  India  had  been  to  take  train 
lo  Calcutta  ;  bul  certain  aii'arigemeiits  into  wJiieli  1  entrred 
caused  me  to  Diodify  my  plans  soine\vliat.  1  now  decided  to 
reach  Calcutta  w  ithin  a  month's  time  ;  and  to  do  this  I  planned 

j52 


.A\   I  \i  ii  \\   i;i\',,\i,.  i\\ 


FROM  ZANZIBAR  TO  BOMBAY 

to  travel  round  India  by  a  coasting  steamer.  I  spent  in  all  a 
fortnight  in  Bombay — a  period  made  very  pleasant  by  the 
kindness  and  hospitality  shown  me  by  my  host  and  those  I  met 
in  his  company.  In  India  I  was  indeed  fortunate  in  meeting  so 
many  who  were  ever  anxious  to  smooth  my  path.  In  fact  all 
over  the  East  it  was  the  same. 

A  most  considerate  action  on  the  part  of  the  agents  of  the 
British  India  Steamship  Company  gave  me  the  opportunity  of 
acting  in  the  capacity  of  assistant  purser  on  their  steamer, 
Virawa,  which  was  bound  round  the  Malabar  coast  for  Burma. 
Such  a  welcome  opportunity  of  saving  my  limited  funds  was 
most  gratefully  accepted  and  appreciated.  So  with  the  good 
wishes  of  my  friends  I  boarded  the  old  but  comfortable  steamer, 
which  sailed  down  south  for  Malabar  on  the  evening  of  the 
2Gth  Auo-ust  1911. 


353 


CHAPTER    X\' 

DOWN    THE    MALABAR    COAST 

PRIOR  to  sailing  all  of  u>  on  board  had  to  undergo 
medical  inspection,  as  bubonic  plague  was  prevalent 
in  Bombay.  The  natives  underwent  a  more  rigorous 
examination  than  we.  and  their  personal  effects  also  were 
fumigated.  Our  cargo,  some  two  thousand  five  hundred  tons, 
chiefly  consisted  of  small  "  bazaar "  goods  from  Bombay 
merchants  for  the  various  coast  ports.  The  dock  gates  opened 
for  us  towards  midnight,  when  we  steamed  out  on  our  southerly 
voyage. 

The  south-west  monsoon  was  blowing  fairly  hard  as  we  got 
into  the  open  sea,  bringing  with  it  much  rain  and  a  moderate  sea 
on  our  beam.  We  kept  the  coast  of  India  in  sight  all  the  day 
following  our  departure  ;  the  land  for  the  most  part  was  low 
and  sandy  near  the  shore,  whilst  in  the  background  high  hills 
stood  out  prominently.  The  sea  at  night-time  was  highly 
phosphorescent  and  large  white  patches  every  now  and  then 
caught  the  eye,  making  one  think  that  the  ship  was  in  shoal 
waters.  These  patches  were  small  schools  of  fish  (chiefly  sardines) 
swimming  in  the  illuminated  seas. 

During  the  day  we  passed  ^Mangalore,  finding  it  closed  to 
shipping  during  the  monsoon,  owing  to  the  heavy  surf  which 
makes  communication  with  the  shore  impossible.  Mangalore 
is  the  eliicf  seaport  of  the  South  Kanara  district,  and  during  the 
open  season  exports  coffee  (from  the  Coorg  district),  dried  fish 
and  f'i  ^li  manure  (chiefly  tlie  sardine)  ;  the  manure  is  used 
largely  on  the  tea  plantations  of  Ceylon.  The  German  Basil 
Missio])  lia\c-  a  tile  I'aelory  here,  the  clay  in  the  red  soil  of  the 
neighbourhood  -u|,)])lying  excellent  material  for  this  industry. 

J5^ 


DOWN  THE  MALABAR  COAST 

I  noticed  some  of  these  Indian  tiles  on  the  East  African  Coast — 
in  Zanzibar  and  one  or  two  other  ports  to  the  south.  There 
is  a  small  interchange  of  commerce  between  that  coast  and 
Malabar  by  means  of  the  Arabian  and  Persian  Gulf  craft. 

This  evangelical  mission  was  established  on  the  Malabar 
coast  in  1816  and  is  worked  in  conjunction  with  several  indus- 
tries— the  tile  works  in  ]Mangalore  and  Cannanore,  and  the 
cotton  and  weaving  industries  in  Calicut.  Down  to  a  recent  date 
these  industries  were  not  profitable  ;  now  that  they  are  worked 
independently  small  profits  are  being  realised,  going,  of  course, 
to  the  mission. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  we  anchored  off  Cannanore,  which 
is  a  rather  more  sheltered  port,  though  in  heavy  monsoons 
ships  have  to  lie  well  out  and  wait  for  an  abatement  in  the 
weather  before  they  can  effect  communication  with  the  shore. 
The  coastland  here  is  low,  and  the  beach  sandy  and  fringed 
with  waving  palms.  The  green  of  these  graceful  palm-trees  with 
the  white  surf  of  the  sea  breaking  on  the  beach  affords  a  very 
pretty  sight. 

The  cargo  from  the  ship  was  off-loaded  into  large  wooden 
dhows  propelled  by  long  oars,  or  sweeps,  when  the  wind  was 
not  sufficient  to  swell  out  the  one  large  sail.  The  oars  in  use 
were  very  peculiar  in  shape,  being  long  bamboos  with  a  wooden 
pear-shaped  attachment  at  the  end — as  near  to  a  ping-pong 
racket  in  appearance  as  possible. 

When  the  cargo  for  this  port  was  all  discharged  we  took  on 
a  few  bags  of  dried  fish  and  fish  manure  for  Colombo.  We  sailed 
in  the  evening  for  our  next  port  of  call — -Tellicherri — which  lay 
only  ten  miles  to  the  south.  The  officers  on  the  Virazva  used  to 
call  this  coast  service  the  "  tram  service,"  as  the  distance 
between  the  various  ports  is  so  small. 

An  hour's  steaming  along  the  low  coast,  with  the  inevitable 
fringe  of  palms  and  stretch  of  sandy  beach  on  which  the  white 
surf  was  brealcing,  brought  us  to  our  next  port.  We  anchored 
off  Tellicherri  at  sundown.  At  daybreak  we  started  discharging 
our  cargo,  which  chiefly  consisted  of  small  bazaar  goods,  such 

355 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

as  medicines,  piece  goods,  trinkets,  etc.  A  small  trade  is  done 
from  this  port  with  the  Laccadive  Islands,  native  craft  bringing 
from  the  islands  coir  yarn  and  receiving  in  exchange  rice  and 
other  goods. 

After  a  twenty-four  hours'  stay  we  weighed  anchor  and 
steamed  south  for  thirty-six  miles  to  Calicut.  We  anchored  well 
out,  and  the  same  view  of  the  shore  was  obtained — just  a  stretch 
of  sandy  beach  fringed  with  palm-trees,  small  groups  of  huts 
and  a  background  of  low  red-earth  (latcrite)  hills.  Calicut  is  of 
more  historical  interest  than  the  ports  we  had  just  visited,  as  it 
was  the  first  place  on  this  coast  to  be  visited  by  Europeans,  the 
Portuguese  landing  here  as  early  as  1486. 

A  visit  ashore  was  instructive  and  fully  repaid  one  for  the 
discomfort  of  sitting  for  about  an  hour  in  a  surf -boat  and  being 
carried  ashore  on  a  coolie's  back  through  the  surf.  I  took  a 
jutka,  or  small  carriage,  and  drove  round  the  little  town.  The 
native  bazaar  was  very  interesting.  It  consisted  of  one  street 
lined  with  open-fronted  shops  ;  each  shop  possessed  upper 
storey  and  tiled  roof.  In  front  were  displayed  the  goods  for 
sale — cereals  in  baskets,  yellow-metal  pots,  trinkets,  umbrellas, 
cotton  goods,  and  little  heaps  of  evil-smelling  copra  lying  on 
mats.  ]Most  of  the  natives  were  wearing  huge  straw-plaited 
hats,  some  nearly  three  feet  in  diameter,  to  shield  them  from 
the  burning  sun  ;  many  were  engaged  in  carrying  heavy  baskets, 
suspended  on  either  end  of  long  bamboos,  and  filled  with 
produce,  such  as  melons,  roots,  fruit,  etc. 

The  usual  hubbub  of  an  Lidian  bazaar  greeted  one's  ears,  the 
usual  odours  assailed  one's  nostrils,  and  the  usual  scenes  met 
one's  eyes.  The  village  barbei"  was  cutting  queer  and  intricate 
designs  on  a  coolie's  head  ;  the  bullock-eart  with  its  thatched 
shade  jolted  over  the  stones  ;  the  sacred  cow  wandered  aim- 
lessly round  the  houses  molested  by  none  ;  and  the  goats  lay 
basking  iji  the  sun  at  the  entrance  of  the  shops. 

Having  driven  through  the  l)azaar,  1  passed  beside  the 
barrack^,  which  are  picturesquely  situated  on  high  groimd  out- 
•side  Uie  town.  Alter  skiitiug  long  stteLelies  of  paddy  fields,  groves 

J56 


(  K     I  \  hi  \'^    Sih  iRi; 


DOWN  THE  MALABAE   COAST 

of  palms  and  luxuriant  tropical  foliage,  all  of  which  looked 
very  fresh  and  green  after  the  recent  rains,  I  gained  the  maidan 
and  the  town  again.  I  then  paid  a  visit  to  the  fishing  huts  that 
lay  along  the  seashore  between  the  barracks  and  the  town.  As 
I  passed  I  noticed  many  boat-builders  at  work.  The  method 
here  employed  in  building  boats  is,  I  believe,  peculiar  to  the 
coast,  as  tlie  beams  are  all  sewn  together  by  coir  fibre,  no  rivets 
or  nails  being  used  at  all.  A  reason  I  heard  suggested  for  this 
is  that  there  is  in  consequence  greater  give,  or  less  resistance, 
when  riding  the  surf.  It  may  be  so  ;  though  I  can  recall  cases 
where  riveted  boats  are  employed  in  surf-riding.  A  little 
beyond  the  fisher  huts  I  came  to  the  fish-curing  yards,  the 
disagreeable  smell  of  which  had  warned  me  of  their  proximity 
some  time  before  I  reached  them.  The  process  of  curing  is 
simple.  Large  open  spaces  are  covered  with  mats  on  which  are 
spread  sardines  and  other  small  fish  in  large  quantities  ;  salt  is 
then  sprinkled  on  them.  The  smell  is  nearly  overpowering  ! 

The  Government  have  erected  two  curing  yards  here,  and,  I 
learnt,  supplies  the  salt  free  to  those  who  bring  their  fish  to 
these  yards.  Much  salt  on  this  coast  is  obtained  from  the  sea- 
water  by  condensation.  The  seas  along  the  Malabar  coast  are 
well  stocked  with  fish,  the  fishing  industry,  however,  being 
more  or  less  at  a  standstill  when  the  monsoon  is  blowing. 
Canning  the  very  numerous  sardines  has  been  tried,  but  I  was 
told  that  the  lack  of  oil  prevented  tliis  industry  from  flourishing. 
At  Mahe^ — the  French  settlement — ^there  are  two  canneries. 
With  the  ever-growing  scarcity  of  the  sardine  in  home  waters 
one  would  think  that  the  sardine  off  this  coast  might  be  more 
profitably  used  than  as  dried  food  or  manure  for  tea  plantations. 

Many  "  dug-out "  canoes,  similar  in  appearance  to  the  mokoro 
of  the  Botletle,  though  of  somewhat  stouter  design,  were  in 
use  along  this  coast. 

In  this,  as  in  nearly  all  the  ports  on  this  coast,  I  noticed 
many  natives  affected  by  that  curious  but  unsightly  disease  of 
elephantiasis — a  dropsical  affection  of  the  lower  limbs. 

Towards  evening  I  started  to  return  to  the  steamer  ;  it  took 

357 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

a  good  hour's  pull  before  we  gained  the  ship,  as  the  monsoon 
was  blowing  strong.  We  then  steamed  for  Cochin,  which  lies 
eighty-eight  miles  to  the  south.  By  daybreak  we  were  at  anchor 
off  this  port. 

If  the  sand-bar  at  the  entrance  were  removed  the  harbour  of 
Cochin  would  be  one  of  the  finest  in  India.  A  narrow  entrance 
leads  into  the  estuary,  which  is  completely  sheltered  from  the 
sea  by  its  principal  arm ;  this  runs  parallel  to  the  coast,  varying 
in  breadth  from  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  three  miles.  The  harbour 
has  plenty  of  water,  five  or  more  fathoms  being  found  even  at 
the  Port  Office  jetty.  The  bar  also  is  very  narrow,  and  but  a 
small  amount  of  dredging  would  be  necessary  to  clear  the 
entrance.  But  the  Madras  Government,  in  view  of  the  extensive 
outlay  that  has  been  made  on  improving  the  port  of  Madras, 
is  naturally  loath  to  do  the  little  that  is  necessary  to  convert 
Cochin  into  a  formidable  rival. 

In  Cochin  1  obtained  an  insight  into  the  working  of  the 
cocoanut  industry,  the  mainstay  of  the  coast.  The  chief  com- 
mercial products  of  the  cocoanut  are  the  coir  fibre,  which  is 
manufactured  into  yarn  and  used  largely  in  the  making  of  mats, 
ropes,  etc.  ;  and  the  copra,  from  which  is  extracted  the  oil, 
used  chiefly  in  the  manufacture  of  candles,  soap,  perfumes,  etc. 

To  obtain  the  coir  yarn  the  husk  is  buried  in  the  ground  and 
there  left  to  rot  for  a  period  of  about  twelve  months  ;  the  longer 
the  better,  though  the  native  to-day  is  alive  to  the  question  of 
supply  and  demand  and  when  high  prices  are  ruling  he  will  dig 
up  husks  before  the  expiration  of  the  full  period.  The  husk, 
when  rotten,  is  beaten  to  pieces,  and  from  this  is  obtained  the 
coil-  fibre,  which  is  afterwards  woven  into  yarn.  Women  and 
children  are  mainly  employed  in  the  work  of  sorting  out 
and  classifying  the  different  grades  of  fibre,  which  is  converted 
under  hydraulic  pressure  into  bales  ready  for  export. 

The  copi-a  is  obtained  by  drying  in  the  sun  the  halves  of  the 
nut,  which  jids  the  "  meat  "  of  a  great  percentage  of  the  vvatci- 
it  holds  ;  when  dried  the  "  meat  "  shrinks  from  the  shell  and 
pressure  squeezes  out  the  oil.  The  native  process  for  extracting 

J5^ 


DOWN  THE  MALABAR  COAST 

the  oil  from  the  copra  is  simple  but  effective  ;  it  is  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  a  pestle  in  a  mortar,  with  the  motive  power  supplied 
by  two  oxen  turning  a  large  beam.  The  bulk  of  the  oil  (in 
barrels)  and  the  filjre  (in  bales)  goes  to  Bombay  for  shipment  to 
England  and  to  the  Continent,  Germany  and  France  being  large 
buyers.  In  some  instances,  when  opportunity  offers,  the  stuff 
will  be  shipped  by  steamer  direct  to  England.  There  is  a 
tendency  for  the  liome  buyers  to  purchase  the  copra  and 
extract  the  oil  for  themselves.  As  the  oil  extraction  is  quite 
a  little  industry  amongst  the  natives,  who  sell  the  oil  to  the 
merchant  houses,  it  will  not  be  to  the  advantage  of  the  Malabar 
firms  to  allow  the  extraction  of  the  oil  to  pass  into  the  home 
buyers'  hands. 

I  made  a  trip  along  the  banks  of  the  estuary,  passing  by 
numerous  godowns  and  wharves.  Quite  a  business-like  air  per- 
vaded the  place.  I  saw  many  small  river  boats,  with  high  prows 
and  sterns  like  Venetian  gondolas,  passing  up  and  down  laden 
with  goods  and  produce  of  all  descriptions.  In  the  distance,  on 
the  opposite  bank  (Native  Cochin),  could  be  seen  the  white 
bungalows  and  Residency  Buildings  peeping  out  amidst  green 
surroundings.  I  next  visited  Candle  Island,  which  is  owned  by 
one  of  the  leading  commercial  houses  of  Cochin  ;  and  there  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  some  of  the  teak  timber,  cut  from  the 
forests  of  Native  Cochin.  The  timber  industry  here,  however,  is 
not  very  large  as  the  difficulty  of  transport  is  considerable. 
The  cotton-wood  tree  supports  a  small  industry — that  of 
making  tea-boxes,  which  are  shipped  (in  pieces)  to  Ceylon  for 
use  in  the  tea  trade. 

Candle  Island  is  one  of  the  many  small  wooded  islands  in  the 
estuary.  It  grows  a  little  rice,  but  its  value  to  the  firm  that  owns 
it  is  on  account  of  the  small  industry  of  boat -building  which  is 
carried  on  there.  I  saw  on  t]\e  island  a  miniature  ship-building 
yard,  which  turned  out  many  of  the  lighters  that  do  the  carry- 
ing trade  between  the  port  and  the  ships  lying  outside.  At  the 
time  of  my  visit  I  was  fortunate  in  finding  one  boat  just  ready 
for  launching  and  wu.s  able  to  see  clearly  the  method  used  in 

359 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

building.  The  lighter  was  built  throughout  of  walnut,  not  of 
teak  as  I  had  imagined,  and  there  was  not  a  nail  or  rivet  in 
her  ;  every  plank  and  beam  was  fastened  to  its  fellow  by  coir 
fibre,  lavishly  soaked  in  fish  oil.  As  a  final  precaution  the  seams 
were  puttied.  All  the  beams  for  the  ship  had  been  sawn  by 
hand. 

The  lightering  business  is  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  revenue 
to  the  firms  in  Cochin.  The  creation  of  a  deep-sea  harbour  in 
the  bay  would  naturally  laiock  this  lucrati^'e  occupation  on  the 
head,  though  a  compensatory  increase  in  other  business  would 
undoubtedly  also  ensue. 

Cochin  town  is  quaint  and  picturesque.  In  the  afternoon  I 
took  a  run  in  a  rickshaw  through  the  bazaar.  As.  this  lay 
in  the  native  state,  I  was  compelled  to  pay  a  small  toll  when 
leaving  British  territory.  An  obelisk  stands  on  the  bank  at  a 
certain  point  marking  the  boundary  between  the  two  territories. 

It  was  only  on  my  arrival  on  this  coast  that  I  heai'd  of  the 
small  colony  of  white  Syrian  Jews  that  has  existed  in  the  heart 
of  Cochin  for  centuries.  They  are  said  to  have  arrived  in  Cochin 
in  as  early  as  the  first  century  after  Christ  ;  and  tradition 
further  states  that  one  of  the  Apostles  landed  on  this  coast 
and  founded  the  colony.  If  true,  it  is  most  remarkable  that  this 
small  colony  of  white  Jews  should  have  remained  in  complete 
isolation  in  the  midst  of  an  alien  and  dark-skinned  race  for 
nearly  two  thousand  years,  preserving  intact  their  identity, 
their  colour,  and  their  religion.  They  intermarry  amongst  them- 
selves, though  it  is  said  that  some  luisbands  are  recruited  from 
the  Jewish  community  in  liotnlxiy.  They  live  in  complete 
isolation  in  the  heart  of  the  native  town,  and  some  of  them  have 
never  left  the  street  in  which  they  wei-e  born.  I  got  a  glimpse 
of  only  a  few,  as  they  are  very  shy  and  the  approach  of  a 
stianger  generally  means  an  em.pty  street.  I  was  told  that  some 
of  tlie  young  girls  of  the  community  were  very  pretty,  but  the 
few  I  saw  could  not  be  called  beautiful,  though  they  could 
certainly  be  called  very  dirty.  An  old  Jewish  synagogue  at  the 
end  of  the  street  in  which  they  lived  ])roved  a  most  intercsn'ng 

360 


DOWN  THE  MALABAR  COAST 

sight.  The  floor  was  inlaid  with  very  old  tiles  of  the  aneieiit 
Chinese  willow  pattern.  The  Indian  rajah  of  the  state  bought 
these  tiles  at  a  very  low  price  years  and  years  ago.  The  Jews 
of  the  colony  coveted  them,  so  they  infoimed  the  rajah — in 
quite  a  disinterested  fashion — that  the  tiles  were  made  out 
of  cows'  bones  ground  down.  The  result,  as  anticipated  by 
the  wily  Jews,  was  that,  as  the  caste  of  the  Rajah  forbade  him 
to  have  such  articles  near  him,  they  were  able  to  purchase  them 
for  a  mere  song.  At  least  this  is  the  story. 

In  the  synagogue  I  was  shown  an  ancient  Hebrew  Bible, 
consisting  of  numerous  writings  on  parchment  ;  I  was  assured 
that  it  was,  as  indeed  it  looked,  centuries  old.  The  old  clock  of 
the  synagogue  was  also  a  most  interesting  sight,  being  a 
unique  specimen  of  ancient  Iiandicraft.  It  was  worked  on  a 
most  primitive  system  of  weights,  all  the  works  being  quite 
exposed.  I  was  told  it  had  never  stopped  and  was  centuries 
old  ;  it  was  indeed  a  rare  cu]"iosity. 

A  little  Jewish  boy  blew  vigorously  on  an  old  ram's  horn, 
making  a  most  diabolical  noise,  which  is  always  to  be  heard  on 
special  festive  occasions.  Having  seen  all  there  was  to  be  seen,  I 
retraced  my  steps  down  the  little  street,  vainly  trying  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  some  of  the  hidden  beauties. 

The  town  of  Cochin  is  as  old  as  it  looks.  One  old  Portuguese 
eliurch,  said  to  date  from  1779,  stands  in  front  of  the  maidan, 
and  is  still  in  good  condition.  I  also  saw  some  Dutch  graves 
and  memorials^ — the  only  relics  of  the  Dutch  colonisation. 

As  is  usual  with  these  towns  along  tliis  coast,  most  of  the 
buildings  were  built  of  laterite,  which  abounds  in  the  soil.  Here 
and  there,  in  places  where  that  once-mighty  race  has  been,  one 
noticed  a  Portuguese  "  touch  "  in  the  architecture. 

Although  I  could  not  say  what  gave  me  the  impression,  unless 
it  was  the  free  use  of  the  bamboo,  every  now  and  then  I  noticed 
something  in  the  streets  of  Cochin  that  forcibly  recalled  to  my 
mind  streets  and  life  in  Japan.  I  cannot  remember  anywhere 
being  so  reminded  of  Japan  as  I  was  in  Cochin.  There  seems 
undoubtedly  a  distinctive  link  between  ;dl  rnees  east  of  Suez. 

361 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

which  every  now  and  then  is  forcibly  brought  home  to  the 
traveller. 

After  a  long  and  tiring  though  instructive  day  ashore,  made 
very  pleasant  by  the  courteous  ship's  agent,  I  returned  to  the 
steamer,  which  was  now  ready  for  sea.  We  sailed  late  at  night 
and  arrived  by  daybreak  at  our  next  stopping-place — a  little 
port  called  Alleppi.  We  anchored  some  two  miles  out. 

Had  it  not  been  that  I  was  anxious  to  see  all  there  was  to  be 
seen,  I  should  have  preferred  remaining  on  board,  as  a  visit 
ashore  meant  a  long  pull  in  a  native  boat  in  a  moist  and  steamy 
atmosphere,  which  greatly  magnified  the  glare  on  the  water. 
There  was  also  a  moderate  sea  running. 

I  had  to  land  at  a  jetty,  as  the  surf  that  was  1)reaking  on  the 
beach  was  too  heavy  for  our  boat  to  run  in.  To  do  so  I  had  first 
to  get  on  to  a  barge  laden  with  coir  yarn  which  lay  alongside 
the  jetty  and  then,  when  a  sea  lifted  the  lighter,  at  the  crucial 
moment  to  do  acrobatic  feats  in  leaping  to  reach  and  obtain  a 
hold  on  to  the  jetty.  My  youth  and  my  long  legs  landed  me  in 
safety  ! 

Alleppi  is  the  principal  seaport  of  the  state  of  Travancore 
and  is  the  second  largest  town  in  that  state.  Trivandrum  is  the 
capital  and  the  residence  of  the  Maharajah.  Alleppi  lies  between 
the  seashore  and  the  paddy  lands  which  bordered  the  back- 
waters. These  backwaters,  or  lagoons,  are  a  feature  of  this  coast. 
Some  near  Alleppi  were  almost  the  size  of  lakes,  most  luxuri- 
antly f oliaged  and  thickly  fringed  with  waving  palms  ;  in  fact, 
it  is  possible  to  travel  to  Cochin  by  way  of  these  backwaters,  a 
continuous  chain  of  which  lie  along  the  coast.  They  are  formed 
by  the  discharge  of  the  numerous  rivers  fed  by  the  mountain 
torrents  of  the  Western  Ghats. 

Another  curious  feature  of  this  coast,  or  about  this  port,  is 
the  presence  of  a  mud-bank  which  lies  just  off  the  shore.  As  the 
mud  is  impregnated  with  oil  it  influences  the  sea  to  such  an 
extent  that  ships  can  communicate  with  the  shore  the  whole 
year  round  ;  the  oily  mud  stirred  up  by  the  swell  breaks  the 
force  of  the  waves.  When  a  ship's  propeller  turns  a  distinctly 

362 


DOW^  THE  MALABAR  COAST 

oily  odour  pervades  the  atmosphere.  This  mud-bank  is  of  com- 
paratively recent  formation  and  is  most  erratic  in  its  behaviour. 
It  has  a  most  reprehensible  habit  of  going  off  visiting  ;  and 
one  then  sees  the  merchants  chasing  this  mud-bank  during  the 
monsoon,  as  without  it  trade  cannot  be  done.  When  it  has 
decided  on  its  summer  abode,  there  for  a  time  the  merchants 
also  dwell.  When  1  was  in  Alleppi  I  learnt  that  the  merchant 
houses  had  just  returned  after  having  followed  this  bank  some 
thirty  miles  down  the  coast,  where  it  had  been  "  at  home  " 
during  the  monsoon.  As  the  rains  were  now  nearly  over,  they 
were  at  liberty  to  dispense,  for  a  few  months  at  any  rate,  with 
their  unreliable  friend. 

The  cocoanut  and  betel-nut  are  the  chief  exports  of  this 
place,  as  an  almost  unbroken  belt  of  cocoanut  and  areca  palms 
lie  along  the  coast  between  the  sea  and  the  towering  mountains 
of  Travancore  (the  Western  Ghats).  Spices  are  also  exported. 

Only  a  few  Europeans  reside  at  Alleppi — eight,  I  believe,  was 
the  number  when  I  was  there.  They  have  a  nice  little  club  and 
lead  a  contented  if  uneventful  life. 

I  drove  round  the  place  and  visited  the  bazaar,  where  the 
usual  cow  was  strolling  about.  The  system  of  canals  leading 
into  the  backwaters  behind  the  town  and  the  gondola-shaped 
boats  in  use  reminded  me  of  Venice.  The  old  broken-down 
walls  of  lateritc  stone  covered  with  moss  and  lichen  that  lined 
the  banks  of  the  canals,  spanned  at  intervals  by  wooden  bridges, 
gave  a  very  picturesque  touch  to  the  scenery.  Outside  the  town 
was  the  usual  luxuriant  growth  of  slender,  waving  palms. 

Barring  our  carriage  knocking  over  a  rickshaw  and  its  coolie 
there  was  nothing  very  exciting  doing  in  Alleppi,  and  as  a  nasty 
sea  had  sprung  up  I  soon  thought  of  returning  to  the  ship.  After 
a  distinctly  ageing  experience  of  getting  into  the  boat  from  the 
jetty,  the  little  craft  dancing  on  the  waves  like  a  cork,  we 
started  off  to  the  steamer.  The  monsoon  was  blowing  strong.  I 
left  behind  a  few  choice  and  emphatic  phrases  to  be  conveyed 
to  the  architect  of  that  landing-stage  and  hope  they  duly 
reached  him  !  The  boatmen  did  not  relish  their  task,  but  as  they 

363 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

were  practically  naked  they  didn't  mind  very  much  the  waves 
that  periodically  tumbled  into  the  boat.  I  did  !  By  the  time  we 
reached  the  ship  our  boat  was  half  full  of  water,  though  the  man 
at  the  lielm  had  kept  her  head  well  on  to  the  seas.  I  blessed  the 
vagrant  mud-bank  that  should  have  been  at  its  post. 

We  sailed  late  in  the  afternoon  and  were  abeam  of  Cape 
Comorin  by  daylight  next  morning.  We  anchored  off  Tuticorin 
in  the  afternoon. 

Tuticorin  from  the  ship's  deck  was  not  attractive.  On  low 
sandy  soil,  sparsely  clothed  with  vegetation,  stood  a  few  red- 
tiled  buildings  and  godowns,  and  one  or  two  tall  factory 
chimneys ;  that  was  about  all.  Tuticorin  is  the  principal  seaj3ort 
of  the  state  of  Tinnevelli. 

Whilst  the  cargo  was  being  discharged  I  remarked  on  the 
perfect  seamanship  displayed  by  the  Indians  in  handling  their 
one-masted  lug-sail  crafts.  They  would  steer  their  boats  dead 
for  the  ship,  running  with  the  wind,  and,  whilst  you  held  your 
breath  thinking  they  would  come  round  a  moment  too  late, 
over  would  go  their  helm  and  they  were  alongside  with  their 
lines  all  but  made  fast. 

The  waters  of  the  gulf  were  dotted  on  all  sides  with  the  white 
sails  of  these  craft  ;  in  the  distance  they  looked  like  small 
yachts.  When  about  to  return  to  the  shore  the  Indians  pulled 
up  their  sails  to  the  tune  of  a  "chanty,"  hauling  up  the  heavy 
sail  hand  over  hand  :  some  ran  up  the  rope  like  monkeys, 
gripping  it  with  their  feet,  and  by  their  weight  so  got  the  sail  up. 
What  the  Indians  in  the  Gulf  of  Manaar  do  not  know  of  seaman- 
ship cannot  be  taught  them  by  anyone  else. 

At  sundown  we  weighed  anchor  and  left  the  coast  of  India 
for  Cevlon. 


364 


■kI  i^^mJ...^.imamA.:i.^. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

FR0:M    CEYLON    TO    BURMA 

THE  shores  of  Ceylon  wc]-e  in  sight  by  daylight.  As  we 
were  keeping  close  in  to  the  island  we  obtained  a  good 
view  of  the  pretty  palm-fringed  beach  on  which  the 
white  surJ'  could  be  seen  breaking.  We  sighted  Colombo  at  mid- 
day. On  our  way  we  passed  numerous  outriggers  and  canoes, 
some  under  sail,  others  at  anchor,  fishing  with  nets  and  with 
lines.  Those  under  sail  continually  kept  their  canvas  wet  to 
draw  it  tight,  in  order  to  catch  what  little  breeze  there  was. 

As  we  were  stoppmg  to  pick  up  oin*  pilot,  a  small  brig  with 
all  her  sails  set  crossed  our  bows  and  entered  the  harbour  ;  her 
canvas  in  tlie  bright  sunlight  looked  like  the  white  wings  of  a 
large  sea-bird.  She  was  one  of  the  small  brigs  that  trade  in  copra 
between  Ceylon  and  the  Laccadive  Islands. 

The  new  arm  of  the  breakwater  at  Colombo  is  now  completed, 
imd  Colombo  to-day  possesses  a  fine  sheltered  harbour,  though 
in  heavy  monsoon  weather  the  sea  breaks  clear  over  the  break- 
water. There  were  many  gunboats  lying  at  anchor  in  the  basin, 
their  "  paying  off  "  pennants  trailing  in  the  breeze.  Most  of 
them  were  from  the  China  and  Australian  stations,  awaiting 
new  crews  from  home. 

By  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  were  moored  at  our  buoy 
and  we  started  to  discharge  our  cargo.  The  bulk  of  it  was 
transhipment  cai'go  for  Madras,  the  rest  being  for  the  island 
of  Ceylon,  consisting  chiefly  of  bags  of  fish  manure  which  we 
had  loaded  at  the  Malabar  coast  ports  for  the  plantations. 

By  noon  of  the  8th  we  were  ready  for  sea.  Our  ship  was  now 
quite  empty,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  tons  of  coal  sufhcient 
to  take  us  up  to  Burma,  where  the  ship  was  to  load  a  cargo  of 

0(^5 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

teak  timber  for  Bombay.  Running  soutPi,  skirting  the  Ceylon 
coast,  we  were  abeam  of  Point  de  Galle  by  midnight.  (Here  I 
crossed  my  westward  track  of  1908 — 80°  E.,  6°  N.) 

Off  the  land  we  sighted  many  of  the  small  craft  that  trade 
up  and  down  the  Indian  and  Ceylon  coasts.  By  noon  of  the 
following  day  the  shores  of  Ceylon  had  faded  away  in  the 
distance,  and  we  headed  for  Burma.  The  south-west  mon- 
soon was  still  blowing  hard,  though  it  was  nearly  at  an  end  ; 
being  "light  ship"  we  rolled  quite  a  little.  After  steaming  for 
three  days  with  the  wind  we  came  into  a  very  confused  sea, 
the  seas  running  north  whilst  the  tops  were  breaking  south. 
For  a  time  we  feared  that  we  were  in  the  track  of  a  cyclone — 
the  typhoon  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal — though  the  season  for  these 
depressions)  was  over  for  a  time.  However,  we  encountered  no 
bad  weather,  though  we  learnt  later  that  there  had  been  a  very 
severe  depression  about  this  time  off  the  coast  of  Madras,  the 
aftermatli  of  which  only  had  reached  us  some  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  to  the  eastward.  By  daybreak  of  the  11th  we 
were  in  sight  of  Table  Island  in  the  Cocos  group — the  most 
northerly  of  the  Andaman  Isles.  Some  ships  make  the  passage 
from  Ceylon  to  Burma  via  the  10°  Channel,  which  separates 
the  Andamans  from  the  Xicobar  Isles  in  the  south.  We  steamed, 
however,  to  the  north  of  the  islands. 

Early  the  next  morning  found  us  in  the  muddy  and  yellow 
waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Martaban.  Had  we  not  known  our  position, 
this  muddy  water,  with  stray  logs  of  wood  and  brush  adrift 
brought  down  by  the  swollen  rivers  of  Burma,  would  have  soon 
informed  us  of  the  close  proximity  of  land.  Shortly  after  day- 
light we  sighted  the  coast  of  Burma  ;  Amherst  Point  first  showed 
up  on  the  horizon  and  shortly  afterwards  Green  Island  came 
into  view.  At  noon  the  pilot  boarded  us.  As  we  drew  near  to  the 
land  I  saw  that  the  shores  and  coastlands  were  thickly  wooded 
and  green,  with  distant  ranges  of  liills  visible  in  the  background. 
A  cable-length  off  Amlierst  Point  lay  the  famous  Water  Pagoda, 
which  is  built  on  piles  in  the  water.  In  the  glare  of  the  sun  this 
pagoda,  }jainted  white,  looked  like  a  large  windjanmier  bearing 

366 


FROM  CEYLON  TO  BURMA 

down  on  us  with  all  her  canvas  set.  The  white  pagoda,  with  its 
background  of  dark  wooded  hills  and  thick  green  foliage,  is  a 
striking  object  and  an  excellent  landmark  for  the  sailor. 

Entering  and  passing  up  the  River  Sal  ween  (or  the  River 
Moulmein,  as  it  is  often  called  as  far  north  as  Moulmein)  are 
tasks  that  tax  all  the  pilot's  skill.  The  river  bed  is  continually 
changing,  survey  boats  being  always  at  work  to  sound  the  ever- 
shifting  depths.  A  series  of  sand-banks  off  the  entrance  have 
first  to  be  negotiated  before  the  navigable  channel  of  the  river, 
which  is  marked  with  red  and  black  buoys,  can  be  entered.  To 
add  to  the  navigator's  difficulties,  a  strong  tide  generally  runs 
athwart  the  channel  ;  low-powered  steamers  have  just  as  much 
as  they  can  do  to  take  the  sharp  twists  and  turns  without  going 
aground.  There  still  remain  in  the  river  the  half -submerged 
wrecks  of  two  or  three  large  steamers  that  have  come  to  grief. 
By  three  o'clock  we  had  made  the  entrance  and  started  the 
passage  up  to  Moulmein,  which  lies  twenty-five  miles  up  the 
river.  The  banks  were  fringed  with  groves  of  palms  and  thick 
foliage,  behind  which  lay  vast  stretches  of  paddy  land  of  the 
tenderest  green,  everything  looking  very  fresh  after  the  recent 
heavy  rains.  The  nodding  palms,  swaying  in  the  gentle  breeze, 
and  the  dense  clumps  of  tropical  vegetation  looked  their 
loveliest  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon.  My  first  impression  of  the 
beauty  and  softness  of  Burma's  scenery  was  never  dispelled. 
The  green  paddy  fields  at  a  distance  recalled  to  my  mind 
English  meadows  and  well-kept  lawns. 

The  river  was  very  full,  though  not  quite  so  full  as  it  had  been 
a  month  previous  to  our  arrival  ;  then  the  greater  part  of  the 
paddy  fields  adjoining  the  river  banks  had  been  under  water. 
Even  now  tlie  water  was  level  with  the  banks.  In  places  where 
the  banks  were  bare  of  their  fringe  o[  foliage  and  palms  I  could 
see,  stretching  right  to  the  wooded  hills  in  the  distance,  one 
expanse  of  rich  green,  the  sun  glistening  on  the  numerous  plots 
which  looked  like  so  many  little  ponds  in  a  grassy  meadow. 
Little  huts  between  groups  of  paddy  fields  were  shaded  by  one 
or  two  solitary  palms.  High  up  in  the  wooded  hills  the  white 

367 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

spire  of  a  pagoda  would  catch  the  eye  shining  brightly  in  the 
sun's  rays — a  testimony  to  the  work  and  self-sacrifice  of  some 
devout  Burman.  The  land  on  either  bank  was  broken  up  into 
a  network  of  small  creeks  on  which  floated  little  houris  with 
thatched  roofs— the  gondolas  of  the  East. 

After  steaming  a  few  miles  up  the  river  we  passed  the  small 
village  of  Kin  Choung,  which  looked  a  perfect  picture  nestling 
amidst  its  groves  of  palms.  As  wc  passed  I  caught  sight  of 
villagers  working  in  the  fields  up  to  their  knees  in  mud,  tending 
the  rice  beds.  It  recalled  to  me  scenes  of  Japan.  In  many  parts 
the  river  banks  were  lined  with  clumps  of  short  toddy  palms, 
from  which  the  Burman  extracts  his  drink  of  arrack — the  sake 
of  the  country.  Far  in  the  distance,  over  the  ranges  of  wooded 
hills  that  backed  the  stretches  of  paddy  lands,  were  faintly 
visible  the  bluish-tinted  mountains  of  Siam. 

When  we  were  within  a  few  miles  of  Moulmein  the  slender 
spire  of  the  Golden  Pagoda  showed  up  clearly,  its  gilded  surface 
shining  brightly  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  and  standing  out 
prominently  on  tlie  "  Ridge  " — the  low  range  of  hills  that  over- 
shadows the  town  of  Moulmein.  Straight  ahead  of  us  the 
Joagalem  Mountains  stood  out  in  bold  relief. 

Just  before  reaching  Moulmein  wc  passed  the  small  village 
of  Kyuo  Ktang,  whicfi  bears  a  very  unsavoury  reputation,  being 
a  favourite  resort  of  many  Dacoits — the  pirates  of  Burma. 
Opium  dens  and  other  ill-famed  establishments  are  to  be  found 
there. 

A  little  beyond  this  village  is  the  part  of  INIoulmein  which  is 
called  iMupun  ;  here  most  of  the  rice  mills  and  timber  yards  are 
situated.  Close  })y  one  mill  I  noticed  a  peculiar  object  in  the 
shape  of  an  old  and  disused  factory  chimney  out  of  which  Avas 
growing  a  large  tree,  its  loliagc  luxuriantly  shading  the  brick- 
enclosc;d  tnmk  ;  it  was  a  most  remarkable  illustration  of  Nature's 
tenacity  of  purpose. 

We  anchored  off  Mouhnein  as  the  sun  was  setting,  its  last 
ravs  cnsting  golden  sjiadovvs  over  the  surrounding  country. 
The  softness  of  twilight  was  slowly  stealing  over  the  land  as 

368 


FROM  CEYLON  TO  BURMA 

the  splash  ol'  our  anchor  broke  the  stillness.  Soon,  but  for  the 
croaking  of  the  frogs  on  the  banks  near  by  and  the  chirping  of 
the  crickets,  everything  became  very  quiet.  The  darkness  slowly 
deepened.  Presently  the  cry  of  the  watchmen  in  the  timber 
yards  along  the  banks  calling  one  to  another  reached  our  ears 
faintly.  Never  did  the  strains  of  Schubert's  "  Serenade  "  sound 
so  sweet  as  they  did  that  night  when  we  lay  at  anchor  in  the  calm 
waters  of  the  ]Moulmein,  though  only  from  a  phonograph. 

I  left  the  old  Virawa  on  the  following  day  and  bade  good-bye 
to  my  shipmates,  from  whose  hands  I  had  received  many  kind- 
nesses. 

A  visit  to  a  rice  mill  was  interesting.  The  process  of  converting 
paddy,  the  unhusked  grain  in  its  natural  state,  into  rice  is 
very  simple.  The  paddy  is  first  sifted  in  order  to  get  rid  of  all 
the  refuse,  such  as  bits  of  stick  and  straw,  cheroot  ends,  etc.  ; 
it  is  then  passed  between  two  revolving  stones  dressed  with 
composition,  known  as  the  "  shellers,"  which  are  Just  sufficiently 
wide  apart  to  grind  the  husks  off  the  grains  of  rice  without 
breaking  them. 

It  is  then  winnowed  by  rotary  fans,  the  husks  and  dust  being 
blown  off,  leaving  behind  the  rice  with,  however,  some  still 
unhusked  paddy.  Some  of  the  rice  grains  are  broken  :  this  is 
termed  "  cargo  broken  rice."  The  rice  is  separated  from  the 
paddy  through  various  separators  of  different-sized  mesh,  the 
unhusked  paddy  going  again  through  the  "  shellers." 

The  rice  then  undergoes  what  is  called  the  "  whitening 
process,"  the  grains  being  polished  by  being  poured  between 
revolving  cone-drums,  set  at  a  certain  gauge  so  as  not  to  break 
the  rice  but  by  contact  of  one  grain  with  another  to  polish  it. 
The  dust  which  is  obtained  from  this  process  is  called  "  rice 
meal  "  and  has  a  market  value. 

The  various  grades  of  rice  obtained  from  paddy  in  order  of 
commercial  value  are  (1)  "white  rice,"  in  which  is  allowed  a 
small  percentage  of  paddy  (which  is  difficult  to  eliminate  com- 
pletely) and  also  a  small  percentage  of  broken  rice  :  (2)  "White 
2  A  369 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

broken  rice  "  (this  is  largely  used  in  the  manufacture  of 
starch) :  (3)  "  Cargo  rice  "  :  (4)  "  Cargo  broken  rice  "  :  (5)  "  Rice 
meal." 

The  mill  dust  is  generally  sold  locally  for  feeding  animals. 
The  husk  is  utilised  as  fuel,  though  much  of  it  simply  goes  to 
waste.  I  learnt,  however,  since  leaving  Burma  that  a  process 
was  being  worked  by  wliich  briquettes  for  firing  purposes  were 
made  out  of  this  refuse  husk  in  conjunction  with  oil. 

Perhaps  even  more  interesting  than  a  visit  to  a  rice  mill  is  to 
watch  the  working  of  the  teak  industry.  The  saw-mills  in  Burma 
are  well  equipped  with  the  latest  timber-cutting  machinery, 
though  they  had  nothing  to  show  me  in  this  respect  that  I 
had  not  seen  in  the  Western  States  of  America.  In  the  timber 
\'ards,  however,  I  saw  what  I  iiavc  not  seen  in  any  other  part 
of  the  world  :  the  sagacious  elephant  doing  as  intelligently,  and 
certainly  more  willingly,  the  work  done  in  the  West  l^y  thirty 
men.  The  elephants  use  their  trunks  to  lift  the  logs  and  their 
tusks  for  leverage  ;  the  tusks  arc  oJ'ten  iron-tipped  to  protect 
the  ivory  from  damage.  The  elephant  is  guided  by  the  rnahont 
on  his  back,  who  directs  the  animnTs  nioveuicnts  with  a  steel- 
pointed  stick  ;  he  will  carry  on  his  tusks  logs  that  weigh  three 
and  four  tons  and  will  place  the  timber  exactly  in  the  desired 
spot.  It  is  a  most  interesting  sight  to  watch  these  big  fellows, 
with  their  huge  ears  fla]:)ping  against  their  heads,  working  so 
placidly  and  so  humanly. 

Moulmein  is  a  most  charming  spot  ;  it  is,  indeed,  one  of  the 
plcasantest  places  1  liave  ever  visited.  It  possesses  a  very 
sporting  little  golf-course.  1  have  never  played  on  a  prettier, 
though  I  'ear  J  did  not  a])]H'eciate  so  much  as  I  ought  the  beauty 
of  \hv  links  when  I  found  my  \y,\\\  curled  cosily  up  in  the  roots 
of  a  nuijcstic  tree  just  off  the  fairway.  I  strongly  recommend 
pros])('etivc  visitors  to  ?iloulinein  to  get  s])ccial]y  built  "'  Drcad- 
]iought  ""  ni.'ishies  and  niblicks  to  cope  with  the  yoimg  saplings  ; 
they  wiil  need  them  !  Nojie  the  less  1  i-egard  the  little  course  of 
Moiilituin  with  feelings  of  affection,  as  well  as  of  respect. 

While  in   Moulmeiii    i   was   the   guest   of   two   Continental 

170 


FROM  CEYLON  TO  BURMA 

gentlemen,  both  connected  with  rice  hrms.  A  chance  meeting 
brought  this  about ;  it  is  a  long  story,  so  I  can't  relate  it.  They 
could  not,  liowever,  do  enough  to  make  my  short  stay  as 
pleasant  as  possible  ;  and  I  look  back  with  feelings  of  very 
great  gratitude  to  those  courteous  hosts  of  mine  who  went  out 
of  their  way  to  smooth  the  not  too  level  path  of  a  wanderer. 

Moulmcin  was  very  interested  in  dancing.  Even  during  my 
sliort  stay  there  were  no  less  than  four  dances,  which  in  that 
damp  climate  speaks  highly  for  the  energy,  as  well  as  for  the 
sociability,  of  a  small  community  of  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  Europeans. 

Before  leaving,  I  visited  the  Golden  Pagoda — the  Pagoda  of 
Moulmein.  A  courteous  Burman — and  the  Burmans  are  as 
refined  a  people  as  one  can  find  in  the  East — noticing  1  was  a 
stranger,  went  out  of  his  way  to  show  m^e  the  beauties  of  the 
pagoda,  of  which  he  was  justly  proud.  The  pagoda  was  built  of 
teak,  with  sun-dried  brick  in  the  foundations.  The  top  was 
crowned  with  a  htee  (umbrella),  from  which  hung  little  silver 
bells  that  tinkled  softly  in  the  evening  air.  ]Many  gigantic  and 
imposing  figures  of  Buddha,  made  out  of  stone,  could  be  seen, 
one  in  a  reclining  position  being  very  finely  sculptured.  Always 
the  same  calm  and  meditative  expression  was  depicted  on  the 
face.  Quaint  figures — half  man,  half  animal — gazed  down.  A  long 
gallery  contained  a  row  of  life-sized  figures,  all  carved  in  stone, 
illustrating  scenes  of  life  and  emotions  of  the  mind. 

And  the  bronze  bells.  What  sweet  yet  sad  tones  boomed  out 
in  the  still  evening  air  when  one  struck  their  chased  sides. 
Every  evening  at  sunset  the  slow  tones  of  those  temple  bells 
would  vibrate  in  the  quiet  twilight  with  their  poignant  appeal. 

From  the  Golden  Pagoda  an  exquisite  panoramic  view  of  the 
surrounding  country  lay  at  my  feet.  Overhead  the  wide  expanse 
of  sky  was  tinged  with  streaks  of  gold  from  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  Below  I  saw  stretching  far  in  the  distance  the  rich 
green  of  the  paddy  lands  and  the  thick  luxuriant  foliage  of 
the  undulating  hills,  behind  which  lazily  wended  their  way  the 
tortuous  streams  of  the  Salween.  I  could  trace  the  junction  of 

371 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

ilic  Ataraiig  and  the  Gyiaiig  rivers  flowing  from  tlie  east,  and 
the  swollen  waters  of  the  Salween  towards  the  mountains  of 
Assam. 

The  sun  had  set  as  I  retraced  my  steps  along  the  Ridge.  I 
passed  by  temples  and  pagodas,  and  priests  in  the  yellow  garb 
of  Humility  gazing  meditatively  in  the  stillness  of  approaching 
night.  It  was  very  peaceful  and  quiet.  And  I  wondered  then  who 
w^as  the  happier :  I  of  the  Christian  West,  or  they  of  the  Heathen 
East. 


372 


CHAPTER     XVII 

SCENES    IX   BURMA 

IT  was  a  delightfully  fresh  morning  when  I  stood  onKaladan 
wharf  at  Moulmein  awaiting  the  arrival  of  my  companion 
who  was  to  join  me  on  a  trip  up  the  Ataran  river.  The 
mountains  in  the  distance  stood  out  boldly  in  the  clear  morning 
air,  overshadowing  the  fast-flowing  waters  of  the  Salween,  their 
summits  draped  in  a  faint  transparent  haze.  The  Golden 
Pagoda  shone  resplendently  in  the  early  light. 

The  wharf  was  thronged  with  crowds  of  Dustling  people- 
such  a  motley  collection  of  gesticulating,  jabbering  humanity. 
Dark-visaged  Madrassis,  aristocratic  Burmans  and  Talaings, 
slender  Chittagonians  from  the  Aracan  coast  rubbed  shoulders 
with  white-turbaned  Hindus  and  Chinamen  from  Cathay. 
Bevies  of  sweet,  dark-eyed  little  Burmese  children  with  their 
graceful  mothers,  squatting  in  little  groups  on  the  ground, 
patiently  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  river  boat.  And  the  mixtui'e 
of  colours  !  The  Burman  and  his  womenfolk  in  their  white 
jackets  {mgyee)  and  skirts  {loongye)  of  every  conceivable  shade, 
the  Sikh  policeman  in  dull  khaki,  the  white-turbaned  Coringhee 
and  the  blue-coated  Chinaman  gave  one  a  glimpse  of  nearly 
every  (colour  in  the  rainbow.  Most  of  the  Burmese  women  and 
children  had  on  their  faces  a  thick  coating  of  powder,  which  is 
deemed  by  them  highly  becoming,  though  it  reminded  me  of  mv 
experiences  in  Oregon  resacking  flour.  In  one  or  two  cases  where 
the  powder  had  been  judiciously  administered  the  effect  W£)s 
pleasing  to  the  eye,  the  white  thanakka  throwing  into  relief  the 
pretty  darkened  eyebrows  and  the  limpid  eyes.  Nearly  all  were 
smoking  cheroots  of  varying  shapes  and  sizes,  green  and  dry. 
Every  now  and  theii  a  couple  of  perspiring  coolies,  heavilv 

373 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

laden  with  baskets  of  produce  and  bags  of  rice,  would  enter  into 
a  wordy  battle,  lifting  their  voices  higher  and  higher  above  the 
din  of  the  noisy  crowd.  A  stranger  to  the  ways  of  the  Orient 
would  tliink  a  free  fight  imminent ;  but  the  storm  of  words 
abated  as  speedily  as  it  arose.  Doubtless  it  was  all  over  a  pice 
that  one  coolie's  uncle  owed  the  other's  dead  grandfather. 
Nobody  worried  about  them.  A  shove  from  a  passer-by  withdrew 
for  a  moment  one  coolie's  attention  to  his  load  of  produce,  the 
other  quickly  availing  himself  of  the  interruption  to  mix  himself 
up  in  the  crowd  ;  and  so  the  quarrel  ended  ! 

In  due  course  the  river  boat  arrived  on  the  scene  and  was  soon 
filled  almost  to  overflowing  with  the  crowds  of  natives  all  carry- 
ing parcels  and  goods — ever^'thing  from  a  bag  of  rice  to  a  little 
oil  lamp.  Everybody  carried  a  package  of  some  sort,  if  only  a 
present  for  the  little  mites  at  home. 

]My  companion  joined  me  just  as  we  wei'c  about  to  sail.  He 
was  one  of  the  superintendents  of  the  Irrawaddi  Flotilla  Co., 
and  was  bound  on  a  tour  of  inspection  up  the  river.  He  was  a 
Scotsman,  and  one  of  the  t\qDe  of  Britishers  that  does  not  go 
"  to  the  dogs  "  because  he  is  out  East.  Whilst  he  was  engaged 
on  his  business  I  watched  a  woman  selling  dates  on  the  landing- 
stage.  The  fact  that  her  lump  of  dried  dates,  her  stock,  got  mixed 
up  with  the  weights  troubled  her  no  more  than  the  indiscriminate 
handling  of  the  stuff  with  her  dirty  fingers  worried  lier  customers. 
She  also  seemed  to  take  quite  placidly  the  inevitable  return  of 
her  customers  to  demand  an  extra  lump,  declaring  that  they  had 
received  short  weight,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  had 
— one  and  all — watched  very  closely  the  process  of  weighing. 
Oh  for  the  temperament  of  the  Oriental  ! 

Just  as  the  river  boat  slipped  away  from  the  landing-stage, 
half-an-hour  late,  a  few  stragglers  turned  up  and  gazed  most 
indignantly  at  the  departing  ship.  Tlie  native  of  the  East  regards 
Time  like  his  wile- — as  sometliing  of  little  consequence. 

It  was  just  an  hour  before  noon  wlien  we  left  Kaladan  and 
steamed  up  the  Moulmein  towards  the  Ataran.  It  had  been  rain- 
ing a  little,  but  the  .-^ky  was  now  bright,  and  in  the  sunlight  the 

374 


SCENES  IN  BURMA 

banks  of  the  river  looked  very  fresh  and  green.  We  passed  small 
native  huts  raised  some  feet  from  the  ground,  and  fleets  of 
houris,  the  boats  used  for  cai'rying  paddy,  and  one  or  two 
rafting  stations  where  lay  numej-ous  logs  of  teak  waiting  Govern- 
ment "  scaling  "  to  determine  the  royalty  dues.  We  stopped  foi- 
a  few  minutes  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  town  in  order  to  take  on 
a  few  more  passengers,  and  then  entered  the  Ataran.  The  river 
here  ran  very  strongly.  In  places  near  to  the  banks  the  water 
was  thickly  covered  with  paddy  husk,  amidst  which  little  naked 
children  were  disporting  themselves.  Child  life  in  Burma  seemed 
to  me  to  be  the  essence  of  happiness. 

I  saw  numerous  little  "  dug-outs  "  with  raised  gunwales 
made  of  teak.  Those  in  use  were  paddled  skilfully  along  by  their 
solitary  occupant,  though  sometimes  one  caught  sight  of  two  or 
three  in  these  little  cockle-shells  which  could  be  turned  over  by 
any  sudden  movement. 

The  boat  kept  close  to  the  winding  river's  banks,  which  were 
thickly  fringed  with  palms  and  jungle  growth  ;  in  the  back- 
ground were  tracts  of  paddy  land,  green  as  an  emerald,  over- 
shadowed by  the  blue  and  distant  hills.  To  me  the  scenery  was 
typically  English  ;  to  my  companion  it  was  typically  Scottish 
— and  we  were  both  right  ! 

We  stopped  at  several  little  villages  as  w^e  travelled  up  the 
river.  In  most  cases  the  boat  just  rammed  her  nose  gently 
against  the  bank  and  a  slender  plank  would  be  shoved  over  the 
side.  Disembarkation  then  began.  Down  the  plank  walked  the 
alighting  passengers  with  their  bundles  and  babies  and  their 
inevitable  umbrellas.  At  one  village  a  passenger^ — a  little  too 
confident  of  the  gangway — slipped  and  fell  into  the  river. 
Such  a  howl  of  applause  and  merriment  greeted  this  perform- 
ance !  3Ien,  women  and  children  chuckled  and  chortled  with 
glee  ;  and  no  one  more  so  than  the  immersed  one  when  he  had 
recovered  his  breath.  He  then  started  to  recover  his  lost  property, 
which  had  fallen  into  the  river  with  him  ;  he  was  still  engaged 
in  this  task  when  we  left. 

Wlien  we  were  in  sight  of  any  village  and  were  yet  a  little 

375 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

distance  off,  we  could  see  most  of  the  inhabitants  assembled  on 
the  banks  to  meet  the  steamer  and  welcome  the  "  travellers  " 
home.  The  little  group  of  naked  toddlers,  full  of  fun  and  merri- 
ment, was  always  there  in  full  force  ;  the  inevitable  pariah  dog 
would  also  show  up  and  with  his  yelps  and  barks  add  to  the 
general  noise  and  hubbub  ;  the  joking  and  laughing  people 
seemed  not  to  have  a  care  in  the  world.  Through  the  jungle 
growth  on  the  banks  one  could  see  the  little  group  of  huts  that 
made  up  the  village  and  the  monastery  amid  its  thick  grove 
of  palms.  The  life  led  by  these  simple-hearted  people  and  the 
peace  of  their  surroundings  made  one  feel  a  little  less  proud  of 
th.e  civilised  Western  world  and  its  ideals. 

Proceeding  on  our  way,  sometimes  nearly  swamping  little 
fishing  boats,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  occupants  though 
greatly  to  the  delight  of  our  merry  passengers,  we  reached  Kyeik 
Myaw,  a  fairly  large  village,  with  a  landing-stage  to  bear  witness 
to  its  importance.  The  name  Kyeik  ]Myaw  is  the  Burmese  for 
"  Fail  to  please."  Years  back,  so  the  story  goes,  this  village  was 
famous  for  its  beautiful  girls,  who,  however,  were  fully  aware  of 
their  charms  and  cast  most  disdainful  looks  on  the  ordinary 
mortals  who  dared  to  court  them  ;   hence  the  name  ! 

On  the  landing-stage  numerous  villagers  were  doing  a  good 
business  in  selling  sticks  of  sugar-cane.  The  little  ones  were 
the  most  conspicuous  amongst  the  sellers,  and  I  particularly 
remarked  one  little  mite,  not  more  than  four  years  of  age, 
who  would  not  have  been  outdone  or  disgraced  by  a  Jew 
pedlar  on  the  Rand.  Six  pice  (|  anna)  was  the  price  of  a  small 
stick,  whilst  one  anna  would  buy  a  large  fat  and  juicy  cane. 
On  departing,  the  ])asscnge]'s  started  to  chew  these  canes,  spitting 
out  the  hbre  on  tlic  decks,  which  soon  became  thickly  littered 
with  the  refuse.  Beyond  the  "  Fail  to  please  "  village  the  river 
narrowed  considerably,  ]xissing  [between  banks  overshadowed 
by  towering  hills  of  very  peculiar  rock  covered  with  jungle 
growth.  In  the  distance  appeared  high  ranges  of  wooded  hills, 
on  solitary  spurs  of  which  white  pagodas  stood  out  in  strong 
relief.   Evel'v^\herc  there  were  glimpses  of  I'ich  green  paddy 

376 


SCENES  IN  BURMA 

fields,  groves  of  luxuriant  waving  palms,  tropical  foliage  and 
vegetation  sheltering  small  villages. 

The  river  pursued  a  most  tortuous  course,  making  so  many- 
twists  and  turns  that  we  would  have  the  sun  one  moment  on 
our  right  hand  and  the  next  on  our  left.  We  passed  numerous 
hoiiris  laden  with  freshly  uprooted  paddy  which  was  ready  to 
be  transplanted.  Much  of  the  paddy  had  been  damaged  by  the 
recent  excessively  heavy  rains  and  many  fields  were  still  under 
water.  Sometimes  the  rice  is  planted  out  of  reach  of  floods  in  a 
"  nursery,"  whence  it  is  transplanted  when  ready  to  the  fields. 

By  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  reached  the  village  of 
Ngabyima — our  destination.  My  companion  during  the  trip  had 
been  superintending  the  duties  of  the  various  ticket-collectors, 
checking  their  issues  and  receipts.  He  possessed  an  excellent 
working  knowledge  of  the  Burmese  language  and  seemed  to  be 
quite  a  favourite  with  the  fair  sex. 

When  we  landed  he  took  me  under  his  wing  to  show  me  the 
sights  of  the  Ngabyima,  a  typical  jungle  village.  It  consisted  of 
one  long  main  street,  lined  on  either  side  with  thatched  bamboo 
huts  all  raised  some  feet  from  the  ground.  Fathers  and  mothers 
chatting  and  gossiping,  dogs  and  hens  roaming  round,  and  little 
children  playing  and  romping  made  up  its  life.  Just  outside  the 
village  was  situated  the  poogyne  cheoung  in  a  thick  groveof  palms. 

My  companion  was  well  known  in  the  village  and  took  me 
first  to  the  village  school.  We  mounted  the  little  ladder  which 
led  up  to  the  raised  hut  ;  on  the  floor  were  seated  a  number  of 
little  children,  who,  as  we  entered,  were  at  prayers.  We  listened 
to  the  little  mites  repeating  a  Buddhist  oration  after  the  head 
boy,  who  himself  was  not  more  than  seven  years  old.  All  were 
on  their  knees,  their  hands  clasped,  their  little  shaven  heads 
quite  erect,  their  eyes  reverently  closed.  One  mite  compelled  at 
last  by  overpowering  curiosity  turned  his  roguish  little  face 
towards  us  and  took  a  fleeting  glance  at  the  two  sahibs  standing 
behind.  Such  a  lovely  pair  of  sparkling  eyes  had  that  little  one. 
When  prayers  were  finished  they  scampered  off  home. 

We  next  visited  an  old  lady  who  welcomed  us  cordially  and 

377 


A  WANDERER'S  TRATI. 

commenced  to  chatter  garrulously  with  my  companion,  who 
was,  though  he  strenuously  denied  it,  as  big  a  gossip  as  the  old 
lady  herself.  Presently  entered  one  of  the  little  children  we  had 
seen  at  school — a  grandchild  of  our  liostcss.  For  our  benefit, 
though  not  till  after  a  lot  of  persuasion,  tills  child  went  throguh 
a  Buddhist  dance,  in  just  the  same  sweet  bashful  way  a  little 
English  girl  of  equally  tender  years  would  liavc  recited  "  Little 
Jim."  Saying  good-bye,  we  strolled  towards  the  Indian  bazaar, 
where  I  espied  displayed  for  sale  evej'\i:hino  from  betel-nut  to 
a  reel  of  Coats'  thread — ^No.  60.  These  Indian  bazaar-keepers 
generally  get  into  their  hands  the  produce  of  the  village,  whicli 
chiefly  consists  of  the  paddy  crop,  the  careless  Burman  mort- 
gaging his  crop  long  before  it  is  gathered  in. 

Hearing  the  sweet  tones  of  the  monastery  bell  booming  in  the 
evening  air,  we  made  our  way  towards  the  poogyne  cheoung,  wliere 
we  observed  the  yellow-garbed  priests  engaged  in  their  evening 
prayers.  From  the  monastery  a  narrow  path  led  to  the  next 
village,  which  was  about  two  miles  away.  As  it  was  stiil  light  we 
followed  this  path,  through  swampy  paddy  fields  on  tlie  one  side 
and  on  the  other  thick  jungle  growth — at  least  too  thick  for  the 
indolent  Burman  to  clear  it  away  and  convert  it  into  paddy 
lands.  On  our  way  we  met  one  or  two  labourei's  returning  from 
the  fields  treading  the  narrow  footway  in  single  file.  They  showed 
no  curiosity  at  meeting  two  foreigners  in  such  an  out-of-the-way 
place  and  passed  us  by  as  though  we  were  one  of  themselves. 
The  natives  of  Burma  to  me  seemed  even  more  impassive  than 
other  Orientals,  though  my  stay  in  the  country  was  so  short 
that  I  cannot  say  if  this  is  really  the  case. 

The  footpath  led  through  ground  which  in  parts  was  almost 
a  morass  ;  in  other  places  we  had  to  cross  running  streams 
spanned  (wlicre  absolutely  necessar\ )  by  single  planks  of  wood. 
As  we  passed  by  the  little  huts  of  the  village  we  caught  sight  of 
tlie  oxen  and  buffaloes  being  driven  home  for  the  night  after 
their  day's  work  in  the  fields  ;  the  Burman,  in  common  with 
most  Buddhists,  looks  after  his  live-stock  well. 

In  this  village  wc  made  a  call  on  one  old  fellow  with  whom 

57^ 


SCENES  IN  BURMA 

my  companion  seemed  on  excellent  terms.  He  spread  a  mat  for 
us,  on  which  we  squatted,  and  wliile  tlic  two  were  gossiping  I 
took  stock  of  the  old  man's  abode.  It  was  a  large  hut  built  of 
bamboo  throughout  and  thatched  carefully  with  large  palm 
leaves.  The  floor  was  raised  several  feet  off  the  ground  and  con- 
sisted of  bamboos  split  in  halves,  laid  closely  togethei'  side  by 
side.  Partitions  erected  with  bamboo  rafters,  neatly  thatched 
with  leaves,  divided  the  hut  into  different  rooms.  Of  furniture 
there  was  nothing  but  a  cradle  made  out  of  a  thatched  round 
basket  swinging  from  a  beam  in  the  roof.  A  large  earthenware 
jar — ^an  indispensable  item  in  a  Burman  household — stood 
outside. 

When  it  was  dark  a  little  oil  lamp  faintly  illuminated  the 
interior  of  the  dwelling,  its  uncertain  rays  lighting  up  the  childish 
face  of  one  of  the  old  man's  daughters  who  had  joined  us.  She 
was  busily  engaged  in  scrutinising  the  sahibs'  faces  and  eagerly 
listening  to  the  conversation  that  was  going  on  between  the  old 
fellow  and  my  companion.  The  old  Burman  was  perhaps  the 
moj'e  curious,  judging  by  the  pertinent  questions  he  put  to  my 
companion  regarding  my  humble  self.  How  many  children  had 
1  ?  How  m.any  brothers  and  sisters  ?  Whence  had  I  come  ? 
Where  was  I  going  to  ?  These  were  a  few  of  the  queries  with 
which  he  plied  my  companion.  When  he  had  been  satisfied  on 
these  points  he  asked  what  was  my  work  ;  or  was  I  a  tourist  ? 
My  companion  briefly  replied  I  was  seeing  the  world  and  was 
writing  of  what  I  saw.  To  this  the  old  chap  replied :  "  Why 
doesn't  he  do  some  work  ?  "  This  shrewd  retort  tickled  us  both 
immensely. 

It  was  very  })eaceful  sitting  in  that  quiet  hut  as  twilight 
slowly  gave  place  to  the  silent  darkness  which  deepened  around 
us,  listening  to  the  croaking  of  the  frogs,  the  chirping  of  the 
crickets  in  the  juiiglc  and  the  slow,  soft  tones  of  the  distant  bells. 
Tlie  gathering  darkness,  however,  reminded  us  that  it  was  time 
to  get  back  to  our  boat  ;  so  bidding  farewell  to  our  old  host  we 
retraced  our  steps  to  the  river.  The  task  of  picking  our  way 
was  by  no  means  easy  in  the  dark,  and  the  uneven  and  muddy 

379 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

path  was  in  places  almost  impassable  in  the  intense  blackness  of 
the  jungle.  Frogs  plumped  into  the  swamps  at  the  sound  of  our 
footsteps  and  brilliant  fireflies  flitted  to  and  fro  as  we  slowly- 
groped  our  way  along  the  narrow  path.  With  much  fear  and 
trembling  we  negotiated  the  one-plank  bridges,  fortunately 
without  mishap,  though  at  times  this  Blondin  feat  brought  my 
heart  into  my  mouth  ;  and  sounds  of  rustlings  in  the  jungle  and 
undergrowth  whispered  of  snakes.  When  we  reached  our  boat 
we  appreciated  a  long  drink  and  a  bath. 

Long  before  dawn  we  were  under  way  again  and  started  the 
return  journey.  The  sun  was  just  rising  above  the  hills  as  we 
sighted  Moulmein  and  the  reflection  of  the  sun's  early  rays  on 
the  graceful  Pagoda  in  the  shining  waters  of  the  river  was  just 
one  streak  of  pure  gold.  I  never  quite  realised  the  number  of 
pagodas  and  temples  that  there  are  in  and  round  Moulmein 
till  I  approached  the  town  from  behind  the  "  Ridge."  Pagoda 
after  pagoda  is  revealed  to  the  eye,  making  one  realise  very 
forcibly  the  grip  that  Buddha's  teachings  have  on  the  lives  of 
the  Burmans. 

My  hosts  decided  to  climb  Mount  Zingyaik — the  highest  peak 
in  Lower  Burma^ — and  I  weakly  allowed  myself  to  be  persuaded 
to  join  them.  In  the  moist  heat  of  Burma  reclining  in  a  deck- 
chair  gazing  at  the  quiet  life  around  me  was  moi'c  appealing  to 
me  than  the  strenuous  occupation  of  climbing  mountains.  I 
begged  my  hosts  to  "  do  "  it  for  ]ne  by  proxy,  as  Mark  Twain 
used  wisely  to  do  ;  but  no  !  they  insisted — and  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  three  miserably  wet-looking  objects  were  found  standing 
at  Martaban  station  in  tlie  pouring  rain.  My  companions  seemed 
to  consider  it  quite  the  usual  thing  to  picnic  in  pouring  j'ain,  and 
when  I  gently  hinted  that  the  wcatlier  was  too  bad  and  that  it 
would  l)e  better  to  postpone  oiu'  strenuous  attempt  sine  die, 
they  botli  liurled  at  my  head  statistics  of  the  rainfall  for  the 
yeai'.  I  drank  them  in  and  I  learnt  tliat  192"  of  rain  had  already 
fallen  in  and  round  Moulmein  (and  the  month  of  September  had 
.not  yet  passed)  and  that  198"  was  the  average  rainfall  of  the  year, 

360 


SCENES  TN  BUEMA 

Six  more  inches  were  due.  They  arrived  by  the  time  we  reached 
our  bungalow  again. 

From  Martaban  we  took  the  train  to  a  small  village  near  the 
mountain  I  had  to  climb.  We  passed  on  our  way  stretches  of 
paddy  lands,  half  of  them  still  under  water.  On  our  right  lay 
ranges  of  midulating  hills— the  Martaban  Mountains — ^thickly 
wooded  and  green,  from  which  numerous  pagodas  peeped  out, 
some  of  them  completely  covered  with  moss  and  lichen. 

It  was  still  raining  steadily  when  we  alighted  from  the  train 
and  started  trudging  over  the  muddy  roads.  Most  of  the  hills 
were  obscured  by  heavy  clouds  of  mist  which  every  now  and 
then  would  lift,  revealing  some  little  temple  on  their  summits. 
The  higher  and  the  more  inaccessible  the  spot  where  the  Burman 
erects  his  pagoda  the  greater  is  his  merit.  Plodding  towards  the 
hill  we  passed  herds  of  buffaloes  and  oxen  grazing.  Many  of  the 
dwellings  amidst  the  swamps  of  paddy  fields  were  completely 
isolated,  separated  one  from  the  other  by  a  sea  of  water  ;  so  the 
method  of  conveyance  from  house  to  house  was  by  means  of  the 
small  "  dug-out." 

Mount  Zingyaik  was  estimated  to  be  some  3000  feet  in 
height  ;  after  I  had  been  climbing  for  an  hour  it  seemed  to  me 
a  good  30,000  feet  high.  At  the  very  top  of  the  peak — ^the  highest 
peak  in  Lower  Burma,  I  repeat  this^ — a  temple  and  pagoda  had 
been  built,  and  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  a  pathway  made  out 
of  boulders  and  stones  had  been  cut  through  the  dense  growth 
of  jmigle.  How  ashamed  I  felt  of  my  lack  of  energy  in  climbing 
up  tJiese  steps  when  I  reflected  on  the  amount  of  energy, 
perseverance  and  self-sacrifice  that  must  have  been  necessary  for 
the  task  of  creating  that  pathway.  The  path  was  over  six  feet 
wide,  with  a  series  of  roughly  hewn  boulders  as  steps,  and  was 
bordered  on  either  side  by  a  low  wall  made  out  of  smi-dried 
bricks  covered  with  moss,  lichen  and  climbing  shrubs.  On  either 
side  of  this  narrow  pathw^ay  was  thick  and  almost  impenetrable 
Jungle  growth. 

We  were  clad  in  the  thinnest  of  clothes,  as  the  moist  heat  was 
intense  and  the  exercise  a  little  more  strenuous  than  one's  every- 

381 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

day  occupation.  Rain  and  perspiration  drenciied  us  completely. 
After  a  long  climb  we  reached  tlic  "  Rest  House  "  that  was  built 
half-way  up  tlic  mountain-side.  It  was  a  welcome  sight.  A 
mountain  stream  swollen  by  the  recent,  as  well  as  the  present, 
rains  foamed  and  rushed  over  its  bouldei'-strewn  bed,  making 
waterfalls  in  its  rapid  descent.  From  our  position  we  obtained 
a  glorious  panoramic  view  of  the  surrounding  country  stretching 
away  to  the  open  sea  in  the  Gulf  of  Martaban.  The  vast  expanse 
of  green  paddy  fields  separated  by  narrow  footpaths  looked  to  us 
at  this  height  like  a  gigantic  chess-board.  Large  stretches  were 
completely  flooded  and  stood  out  cleai'ly  against  the  emerald- 
green  of  the  other  more  fortunate  fields. 

At  last  the  continuous  rain  damped  even  the  ardour  of  my  two 
companions,  and  it  was  decided,  to  my  secret  joy  though  to  iny 
feigned  regret,  to  abandon  the  climb  to  the  top.  AYe  spent  a 
couple  of  houi's  at  the  "  Re^t  House  "  making  steady  im'oads 
in  the  stock  of  sandwiches  and  eggs  the  sei'vants  had  brought 
up.  Whilst  roaming  round  (mountain  creeks  have  always  a 
fascination  for  me)  I  thought  I  discovered  traces  of  gold.  My 
enei'gy  revived  speedily  and  for  the  space  of  an  hour  I  searched 
diligcntlythe  beds  of  the  creeks  around  up  to  my  knees  in  running 
water,  much  to  the  secret  amusement  of  my  two  companions. 
^ly  host  still  has  the  samples  T  collected  that  day  ;  if  ever  a 
Klondyke  is  found  on  Mount  Zingyaikthe  credit  is  mine. 

We  started  the  descent,  whicli  was  nearly  as  hard  work  as  the 
ascent,  as  the  rain  had  made  tlic  rough  boulder  steps  very 
slippery.  It  was  even  more  difficult  for  our  native  servants,  whose 
bai-e  feet  continually  slid  off  the  slippery  rocks  ;  in  order  to  assist 
them  they  cut  large  bam])oo  ])o]csfrom  the  jungle,  utilising  these 
as  alpenstocks.  We  too  found  our  walking-sticks  more  than 
useful.  None  of  us  were  sorry  to  I'caeh  the  bottom  of  the  hill 
again,  as  it  was  very  tiring  and  at  times  I'isky  work  clambering 
over  the  slip])ery  stones  worn  smooth  by  the  feet  of  thousands. 
Much  of  the  rock  of  tliese  liills  was  of  granite  formation,  and 
there  existed  a  small  industr}-  of  quariying  this  stone  for  road- 
making  ])in'poses. 

382 


SCENES  IN  BURMA 

Alter  our  climb  we  rambled,  wet  and  dishevelled,  tlirougii  the 
village  to  a  large  waterfall  and  there  enjoyed  a  perfect  bath 
sitting  under  the  tumbling  waters,  a  fitting  finale  to  our  strenu- 
ous day's  doings.  We  disported  ourselves  here  like  schoolboys 
till  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  returned  toMoulmein,  feeling 
tired  but  intensely  pleased  with  ourselves.  In  the  club  that  night 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that,  when  saying  in  quite  a  casual  way, 
"  We  climbed  Mount  Zingyaik  to-day,"  I  forgot  to  add  that 
we  only  went  half-way. 


38: 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

FROM    MOULMEIN    TO    CALCUTTA 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  the  25th  I  boarded  the  B.I. 
paddle  steamer  Rampura  to  cross  over  to  Rangoon. 
By  nine  o'clock  we  were  out  of  the  river  and  were  steam- 
ing through  the  Gulf  of  Martaban.  Shortly  after  noon  we  entered 
the  Hlaing,  or  Rangoon  river,  and  steamed  towards  the  town, 
which  lies  twenty-one  miles  up  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river. 
The  Rangoon  and  the  Bassein  rivers  arc  the  only  two  mouths 
of  the  Irrawaddi  that  are  navigable  for  deep-sea  ships,  though 
there  are  seven  other  tributaries  of  this  river  all  more  or  less 
available  for  small  craft. 

Rangoon  river,  from  a  scenic  point  of  view,  is  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  ]\Ioulmein  river,  as  its  banks  are  low  and  much 
wider  apart,  the  water  also  being  of  a  very  dirty  colour.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  more  prosperous  and  business-like  air  pervades  it. 
One  catches  sight  of  numerous  launches,  small  steamers  and 
native  craft  plying  up  and  down,  also  many  tramps  lying  at 
anchor — some  engaged  in  loading  cargoes  of  rice  and  oil,  others 
unloading  quantities  of  home  goods.  The  commerce  of  Rangoon 
is  yearly  increasing  and  as  a  port  it  ranks  to-day  third  in 
importance  in  the  Indian  Empire. 

On  approaching  the  town,  the  Shwc  Dagon  Pagoda  soon  came 
into  view  and  was  a  most  striking  and  splendid  object  with  the 
rays  of  the  afternoon  sun  reflected  from  its  gilded  surface. 

We  anchored  off  the  B.I.  wharf  about  tea-time.  After  leaving 
the  ship  I  took  a  quiet  stroll  round  Rangoon  to  obtain  my  first 
impression.  j\Iueh  of  the  town  is  built  on  reclaimed  land,  many 
of  the  principal  streets  being  on  what  was  once  nothing  but 
muddy  swamp  ;   the  modern  part  of  the  town  is  laid  out  on  the 

3S4 


FROM  MOULMEIN  TO  CALCUTTA 

American  block  system.  Rangoon  to-day  possesses  some 
excellent  buildings,  a  new  block  of  Government  offices  being 
particularly  imposing.  A  stroll  through  the  native  part  of  the 
town  was  most  interesting.  Frazer  Street  and  the  adjoining 
quarter  was  m}'  favourite  spot,  with  the  different  types  of 
humanity  that  jostled  each  other  in  the  crowded  thoroughfare. 
Displayed  for  sale  in  the  little  rows  of  stalls  that  lined  both  sides 
of  tJie  streets  was  everything,  from  an  eyeglass  to  a  second-hand 
Euclid  book,  from  articles  of  food  to  packets  of  notepaper,  from 
^Manchester  piece-goods  to  the  latest  quack  medicine.  By  night 
flaming  oil  lamps  lit  up  each  little  stall,  the  flickering  rays  throw- 
ing shadows  on  the  diversified  types  of  Oriental  humanity  that 
thronged  the  busy  streets.  Indians  of  all  castes  and  creeds, 
Chinese,  Japanese,  the  dignified  Burman  and  the  happy-go- 
luck}^  coolie  jostled  each  other — all  busily  engaged  in  buying  or 
selling,  shouting  or  quarrelling.  A  stroll  down  the  Chinese  quarter 
produced  the  usual  sights,  smells  and  noises  consistent  with  a 
settlement  populated  by  the  representatives  of  this  virile  race. 
1  caught  glimpses  of  little  groups  of  gamblers  staking  their  last 
coin  on  Fortune's  fickle  wheel  and  heard  once  again  the  plaintive 
wail  of  the  Chinese  violin. 

I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Shwe  Dagon — the  most  important  pagoda 
of  the  Buddhist  world.  From  the  farthest  parts  of  Burma,  Siam 
and  Korea  worshippers  come  to  visit  and  to  pay  homage  to  this 
shrine  at  the  annual  festival.  It  is  the  Buddhist's  Mecca. 

One  ascends  numberless  tiers  of  steps,  worn  smooth  by  the 
flight  of  ages,  and  shaded  by  handsome  carved  teak  roofs 
supported  on  huge  wooden  pillars.  One  catches  sight  of  numerous 
frescoes  carved  on  the  large  panels  and  cross-beams,  representing 
scenes  from  the  life  of  Buddha  and  of  his  disciples,  and  scenes  of 
torture  in  hell  and  of  bliss  in  heaven.  Still  ascending,  one  passes 
little  stalls,  where  candles,  tapers  and  incense  can  be  purchased 
to  burn  at  the  altar  of  the  god.  At  the  foot  of  the  pagoda  is  a 
further  number  of  these  little  stalls  ;  also  man}'  chapels  and 
colossal  figures  of  Buddha.  Numerous  grotesque  figures,  half 
animal  and  half  man,  in  all  positions,  representative  of  the  acts 

2B  385 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

of  fighting,  dancing  and  meditation,  arc  to  be  seen  on  all  sides. 
At  the  base  of  the  pagoda  is  a  host  of  smaller  pagodas,  each 
with  its  htee  and  cluster  of  gold  and  silver  bells  which  tinkle 
melodiously  in  the  cool  evening  breeze.  Bronze  bells  of  all 
sizes,  suspended  on  stout  cross-beams  of  teak,  are  struck  by 
devotees  with  the  striker  of  a  deer's  antlers  supplied  for  the 
purpose. 

The  original  payah,  or  pagoda,  is  said  to  have  gained  its  present 
size  and  height  by  repeated  coverings  of  brick.  It  is  regilded 
every  now  and  then  ;  most  worshippers  buy  a  few  gold  leaves 
from  the  stalls  and  add  their  small  contribution,  which  results 
in  little  isolated  patches  of  gilt  showing  up  here  and  there. 
Adjoining  the  pagoda  are  many  monasteries  situated  amidst 
thick  groves  of  palms  and  shady  trees,  so  surrounded  in  accord- 
ance with  Buddhist  teachings.  From  this  position  a  most 
perfect  view  of  the  surrounding  country  may  be  obtained,  with 
the  Moulmein  Hills  faintly  visible  in  tlie  distance. 

It  had  been  ray  intention  to  travel  to  Calcutta  from  Rangoon 
by  a  coasting  steamer,  in  order  to  visit  the  ports  of  Akyab, 
Kyoukpyoo  and  Chittagong.  However,  neither  time  nor  oppor- 
tunity would  permit  of  this  ;  my  energy,  too,  was  fast  becoming 
conspicuous  by  its  absence.  So  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  I 
boarded  the  B.I.  mail  steamer  Cocanada  for  Calcutta.  The 
voyage  across  the  Bay  of  Bengal  took  us  two  days.  We  anchored 
for  the  night  off  Saugor  Island  and  at  daybreak  started  the 
passage  up  the  Hngli  river,  whieli  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
rivers  in  the  world  for  deep-sea  sliips  to  navigate.  TheHugli  is 
the  most  western  and  jilso  Hie  iiiost  im])ortant  cliannel  })y  whicli 
the  Ganges  enters  tlie  liay  of  Bengal.  The  river  off  tjie  Saugor 
Island  is  very  wide,  being  at  that  point  at  least  ten  miles  across. 
]Many  of  the  mud-banks  in  the  bed  of  the  Ilugli  are  continually 
shifting  and  numei'ous  shoals  lie  in  the;  fairway  of  the  channel ;  so 
comjHilsory  ])ilotage  is  neeessary  and  only  daylight  navigation 
is  allowed. 

The  banks  of  the  rivei'  are  low,  though  tiu^  scenery  in  parts 
is  pretty,  as  many  green  stretches  of  ])addy  lands  soften  the 

386 


FROM  MOULMEIN  TO  CALCUTTA 

commercial  aspect  of  the  surroundings.  Jute  and  cotton  mills 
are  numerous. 

We  moored  off  Eden  Ghat  in  the  afternoon  just  a  little  before 
sunset.  As  it  was  Sunday  I  took  a  stroll  in  Eden  Gardens  in  the 
hopes  of  hearing  the  band  play,  but  on  arriving  there  I  found 
that  it  could  be  heard  every  day  except  Sunday,  when,  of  course, 
no  one  would  have  had  any  leisure  time  to  listen  to  the  music  ! 
I  was  reminded  of  the  Johannesburg  Library  :  it  was  so  typically 
English  and  insular. 

Being  unable  to  listen  to  the  band  I  did  the  next  best  thing  : 
I  watched  the  elite  of  Calcutta,  of  all  shades,  driving  up  and 
down  the  Strand  Road  in  tum-tums,  motor  cars,  carriages  and 
iikka-gharries.  Being  thick-skinned,  I  was  insensible  to  the  many 
withering  glances  on  the  disgrace  and  humiliation  of  being  on 
my  feet.  When  the  society  of  Calcutta  had  vanished  I  sat  down 
in  the  gardens  and  enjoyed  the  cool  evening  air,  which  was  most 
refreshing  after  the  moist  and  sultry  heat  of  the  day. 

As  a  town  Calcutta  is  extremely  well  built  and  is  entirely 
modern.  From  an  architectural  point  of  view  it  is  undoubtedly 
the  finest  town  east  of  Suez.  Its  museum  is  one  of  the  best  in 
the  w^orld  ;  the  commercial  man  visiting  India  will  find  ample 
reward  in  inspecting  the  Economic  section,  which  will  giYQ  him 
a  comprehensive  idea  of  the  industries  of  the  country. 

A  good  system  of  tramcars  enabled  me  to  visit  the  outskirts 
and  suburbs  of  the  tow-n  ;  though  to  "  do  "  the  town  in  a  gharry 
is  the  correct  thing  if  you  cannot  borrow  a  motor  car.  The  hire 
for  these  vehicles  is  very  moderate  :  eight  annas  an  hour  to 
the  sensible  visitor,  from  one  rupee  to  five  for  an  American 
globe-trotter. 

I  spent  more  than  one  pleasant  afternoon  out  at  the  Tollygungc 
Golf  Club,  which  possessed  an  excellent  eighteen-hole  course. 
As  I  had  no  clubs  with  me  I  contented  myself  by  sitting  under 
the  shady  trees  that  surrounded  the  picturesque  club-house  and 
watcliing  the  players  foozling  their  putts.  This  was  not  always 
the  case  though,  as  I  witnessed  some  excellent  golf  ;  it  was  of 
as  high  a  standard  as  were  the  "  pegs  "  in  the  hospitable  clubs. 

o^7 


A  WAXDERER'S  TRAIL 

Whilst  I  was  in  Calcutta  a  native  puja  (festival)  was  being 
held  and  the  streets  through  Kalighat  were  crowded  with  a 
noisily  devout  mass. 

Perhaps  the  most  instructive  visit  that  I  made  during  my 
sliort  stay  in  Calcutta  was  to  a  jute  mill,  of  which  there  are  a 
great  number.  The  one  I  visited  was  at  Kidder])ore.  To  get  there 
I  had  to  drive  through  the  spacious  maidan  (in  this  Calcutta  has 
a  great  advantage  over  Bombay),  and  passed  on  my  way  many 
energetic  residents  taking  an  early  morning  canter.  Horse-riding 
is  about  the  most  suitable  form  of  exercise  during  the  hot 
M'cather. 

The  process  of  weaving  the  jute  into  gunny  sacks  was  most 
interesting  to  watch.  The  gunny  export  business  of  Calcutta  is 
one  of  considerable  importance  ;  even  more  so  is  the  export  of 
raw  jute,  which  goes  chiefly  to  Scotland. 

As  the  usual  measure  of  Unsuccess  had  met  one  more  scheme 
of  mine  to  find  some  permanent  resting-place,  there  lay  before 
me  the  only  alternative  of  continuing  my  journey  to  Japan. 
Once  again  I  am  able  to  record  a  splendid  act  of  kindness  : 
one  that  gave  me  the  opportunity  of  working  my  way  to  Japan 
in  the  capacity  of  assistant  purser,  and  of  saving  a  goodly  sum 
from  my  slender  resources.  The  steamer  I  joined  was  the  Xapaj. 
one  of  a  fleet  of  steamers  that  traded  between  Calcutta  and 
Japan,  via  the  Straits  Settlements.  It  needed  but  such  another 
considerate  action  to  iill  me  with  a  sense  of  the  kindness  that 
there  is  in  the  world- — and  particularly  the  world  of  commerce. 
Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  splendid  fellowship  of  those  on 
whom  I  had  so  slight  a  claim,  but  who  were  always  so  ready  to 
extend  a  helping  hand,  always  so  ready  to  smooth  my  path. 
I  should  never  have  got  through. 

I  travelled  for  four  months,  from  Africa  through  Eastern 
lands,  on  just  forty-three  pounds,  everywhere  endeavouring  to 
fulfil  the  small  duties  incumbent  on  me  ;  so  the  strain  on  my 
slender  resource--,  physical  and  mental,  as  well  as  financial,  iwdy 
be  imagined.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  not  for  a  thousand 
pounds  would  1  d(j  it  again  !  When  I  recall,  as  I  pen  these  lines, 

3^6 


FROM  MOULMEIN  TO  CALCUITA 

the  innumerable  acts  of  kindness  and  hospitality,  and  the  ever 
delicate  consideration  for  my  limited  finances,  I  feel  I  owe  a 
tremendous  debt  of  gratitude  ;  and  of  the  crime  of  ingratitude 
may  I  never  be  accused. 

It  was  the  12th  October  when  the  steamer  Napaj  cast  off  her 
lines  and  left  Calcutta  on  her  voyage  to  Japan. 


J«9 


CHAPTER    XIX 

IN    THE    FAR    EAST    AGAIN 

PENANG  was  our  first  port  of  call.  Here  we  took  on 
board  a  large  number  of  Chinamen  who  Avere  bound 
for  Shanghai  to  join  the  levolutionary  army.  Small- 
pox curbed  their  warlike  spirit  for  a  time  ;  we  left  them  all 
marooned  on  Quarantine  Island,  off  Singapore,  for  a  period  of 
a  few  weeks,  as  one  of  their  number  had  been  indiscreet  enough 
to  catch  the  disease.  We  took  on  in  their  place,  after  the  ship 
was  fumigated,  another  large  batch  for  Hong-Kong.  The  coolie- 
carrying  trade  on  the  China  coast  is  a  very  profitable  one.  To 
watch  the  stowing  away  of  these  Chinks  and  their  quarrelling 
for  the  best  places  was  a  favourite  source  of  amusement. 
Gambling,  fighting,  eating  and  sleeping  were  their  chief 
occupations  on  the  voyage. 

We  reached  Hong-Kong  on  the  30th,  anchoring  there  on  the 
morning  of  that  day  :  it  lookcd^ — by  night  and  by  day — as 
pretty  as  ever.  Naturally  evei-yonc  in  Hong-Kong  was  talking 
of  the  revolution  then  going  on.  The  town  was  full  to  over- 
flowing with  Chinese  refugees  from  Canton,  many  of  the 
godowns  having  been  converted  into  hotels  to  house  them. 
Trade  was  practically  at  a  standstill  and  all  the  business  men 
were  heartily  sick  of  the  whole  affair  and  praying  for  a  speedy 
settlement.  The  business  man  is  ever  the  best  advocate  for 
peace  !  There  was  some  slight  disorder  in  the  town,  as  many 
of  the  Cantonese  did  not  quite  appreciate  the  fact  that  they  were 
in  British  territory  ;  the  sight  of  a  few  armed  patrols  in  tiic 
streets  soon  convinced  them,  however,  that  they  were  not 
under  Chinese  rule. 

After  four  days  in  Hong-Kong  we  steamed  north  for  Shanghai, 

390 


IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN 

where  we  berthed  on  the  night  of  the  5th.  As  we  lay  off  Woosang 
prior  to  steaming  up  the  Yangtze,  we  found  that  the  Woosang 
Forts  had  changed  hands  the  preceding  day.  The  changing 
hands  had  consisted  of  the  Revolutionaries  marching  in 
courageously  on  the  one  side  whilst  the  gallant  defenders 
marched  defiantly  out  on  the  other.  The  Chinese  city  of 
Shanghai  had  also  been  captured  just  before  our  arrival  by 
another  movement  of  this  kind.  These  were,  indeed,  stirring 
times  ! 

Everything  in  the  foreign  concession  was  perfectly  quiet. 
As  we  steamed  up  the  Yangtze  towards  Shanghai,  we  passed 
several  Chinese  gimboats  lying  at  anchor,  flying  the  old  Chinese 
flag.  They  were  flying  no  flag  at  all  when  we  steamed  out ; 
their  policy  apparently  was  to  wait  and  "  look  see  "  which  side 
was  going  to  win.  The  weather  in  Shanghai  was  very  cold,  but 
bracing,  a  little  too  much  so  after  the  moist  heat  of  India  and 
Burma.  Business  was  more  or  less  at  a  standstill,  the  town  of 
Hankow  having  suffered  badly  from  the  many  fights  that  had 
taken  place  within  its  walls.  The  currency  in  Shanghai — always 
a  most  perplexing  problem,  at  least  to  me — was  in  even  a  more 
complicated  state.  Whether  things  are  good  or  bad,  in  China 
one  always  seems  to  come  off  second  best  when  changing 
money. 

Wc  left  Shanghai  on  the  8th  for  Japan,  passing  off  Woosang 
many  battleships  flying  the  flags  of  all  the  world  save  China, 
as  a  reminder  that  the  Chinese  could  kill  as  many  of  their  own 
countrymen  as  they  liked,  but  that  they  must  leave  in  peace 
the  nationals  of  the  powers  represented. 

On  the  morning  of  the  10th  the  land  of  Japan  appeared 
above  the  horizon.  By  noon  we  were  in  the  straits  of  Shimonseki, 
where  wc  took  on  our  Inland  Sea  pilot.  The  ports  of  Moji  and 
Sliimonseki,  and  the  shipping  that  lay  in  the  harbour  were  gaily 
festooned,  as  the  late  Mikado  had  just  arrived  there  on  his  way 
to  a  military  review  in  Kiushu. 

The  shores  of  the  Inland  Sea  as  v/e  steamed  slowly  along 
looked  bleak  and  bare  in  the  wintry  sun.  We  anchored  off 

391 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

Kobe  at  noon  on  the  day  following  ;  and  once  again  I  was  on 
the  hospitable  soil  of  Japan. 

I  spent  two  months  in  Japan  on  the  occasion  of  this  second 
visit.  j\iy  arrival  was  in  no  way  opportune,  as  it  was  during 
the  middle  of  the  schools'  winter  term,  which  meant  that  there 
was  no  opportunity  for  me  to  get  any  teaching  work  to  do. 
On  my  arrival  at  Kobe  I  learnt  by  cable  that  another  billet 
that  I  had  in  view  had  fallen  through.  This  last  year  of  my 
unorthodox  travels  was  the  hardest  of  all.  During  that  time 
things  seemed  to  go  from  bad  to  worse  ;  and  throughout  this  year 
I  had  my  faith  in  Humanity  tried  not  a  little.  Friends  consoled 
me  with  the  kindly  reminder  that  the  hour  is  always  darkest 
before  dawn.  That  it  might  be  the  darkness  that  was  ushering 
in  the  typhoon  was  at  times  nearer  my  thought.  But  my  friends 
were  right. 

The  bulk  of  the  two  months  in  Japan  I  spent  in  Tokio  with 
my  friend,  E.  J.  Harrison.  This  period  I  devoted  to  writing 
many  of  the  pages  of  this  book,  while  waiting  for  a  signal  to 
return  to  China  in  connection  with  a  business  arrangement  ; 
but  the  signal  never  came. 

In  the  short  while  that  I  reinained  in  Japan  I  noticed 
many  changes  in  the  life  of  Tokio.  Japan  everywhere  seemed 
to  me  to  be  sadder.  And  life  seemed  harder.  It  may  have  been 
that  I  looked  through  differently-coloured  spectacles  ;  but,  what- 
ever the  cause,  the  deadly  material  aspect  of  twentieth  century 
Japan  struck  me  most  forcibly.  Poverty  and  crime  stalked  the 
streets  ;  ironclads  and  similar  tokens  of  "  civilisation  "  were 
drawing  heavily  on  the  savings  of  the  overtaxed  inhabitants  ; 
speculation,  embezzle]) lent  and  corruption  ap])carcd  to  be  the 
order  of  tlic  day.  The  soul  of  the  Sanmrai  seemed  hidden. 

On  the  last  day  of  Ih^'  year  (1911)  J  said  good-bye  to  Tokio 
and  my  friend  Hani  :oii,  and  sailed  lor  Hong-Kong  via  Kobe; 
again  1  was  ioi'tunalc  in  arranging  a  very  cheap  passage.  On 
]2t]i  Januai-y  1  arrived  in  Hong-Kong,  M'itli  eight  dollars  in  my 
pocket,  to  take-  up  a   position  as  Foreign  Corrcsjiondent  to  a 

J92 


\i'\':Ki  '\'-:  :    "Mil-,    I'l.  \K 


A    S  I  Ki:i-:  I     1  \     i  |(  .\<  ,!-,■  iM 


IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN 

lai'gc  Japanese  firm  there.  Fate,  however,  again  intervened. 
A  cable  was  awaiting  me  cancelling  the  appointment.  This  was 
the  third  cable  that  I  had  received  carrying  a  similar  message 
in  the  short  space  of  six  months.  The  only  consolation  I  ob- 
tained was  that  in  no  individual  case  was  there  any  personal 
reason  for  my  being  "turned  down."  I  could  not  fight  against 
revolutions  and  the  reorganisation  of  staffs.  To  the  Chinese 
upheaval  I  owe  no  debt  of  gratitude. 

Some  Japanese  friends  in  Hong-Kong  now  stepped  into  the 
breach,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  had  arranged  to  instruct 
certain  classes  in  English.  Truly  the  Japanese  were  good 
friends  to  me  !  My  life  for  the  next  few  months  in  China  was 
uneventful.  The  days  I  devoted  to  the  work  of  writing  up 
my  travels,  in  the  evenings  I  taught  for  my  living,  supple- 
menting my  small  income  by  a  few  "  leaders  "  in  the  local 
papers.  My  health  during  that  period  was  none  too  good.  I 
was  troubled  on  and  off  with  dysentery,  and  the  muggy  heat  of 
the  rainy  season  of  Hong-Kong  lowered  my  vitality  still  further. 
It  was,  however,  the  mental  strain  that  at  last  ordered  me  to 
take  a  respite  in  the  shape  of  a  sea  trip  in  a  coal  tramp  to  Japan 
and  back.  By  June  I  had  drafted  my  book  ;  so  I  stole  three 
v.eeks  from  my  labours  and  went  over  to  Kiushu  to  seek  out  a 
spot  where  neither  a  missionary  nor  an  American  tourist  could 
be  found.  I  chose  31iike — the  Cardiff  of  Japan.  On  the  trip 
and  during  the  week  there  I  spent  a  restful  time,  returning  to 
Hong-Kong  much  refreshed. 

]My  only  relaxation  in  China  w^as  swimming.  Every  evening 
about  five  o'clock  I  went  with  my  Japanese  friends  in  a  steam 
launch  to  one  of  the  small  bays  and  swam  and  bathed  there  to 
my  heart's  content ;  some  of  my  companions  were  no  mean 
swimmers.  Nothing  occurred  during  those  few  months  to  break 
the  monotony  of  life  in  an  Eastern  port,  save  perhaps  the  at- 
tempted assassination  of  the  new  Governor  of  Hong-Kong.  I 
was  an  eye-watness  of  that  incident,  not  ten  yards  off.  It  was 
the  narrowest  escape  one  could  have  witnessed. 

I  made  few  acquaintances  in  Hong-Kong,  having  neither 

J93 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

the  money  to  join  the  club,  nor,  I  confess,  the  inclination  ; 
I  have  not  the  makings  of  a  club-man  in  me.  Most  of  those  with 
whom  I  had  any  acquaintance  were  newspaper  men,  whom,  as 
a  rule,  I  have  found  to  be  broadmindcd.  Space  forbids  my  dwell- 
ing further  on  my  stay  in  Hong-Kong,  though  I  could  devote 
a  chapter  to  various  incidents  that  occurred,  from  a  row  with 
my  next-door  neighbour  (an  actor  out  of  work)  to  an  informal 
luncheon  with  Sir  Frederick  Lugard,  then  the  Governor  of  the 
island.  I  have  written  enough  ;  both  you,  reader,  and  I  are  tired 
of  it  all.  We  are  both  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  word  "  FINIS." 

By  the  end  of  July  this  book  was  finished  as  I  thought,  and 
on  its  way  to  London.  Then,  and  only  then,  did  I  decide  to 
return  home. 

I  had  put  by  a  little  money — barely  fifteen  pounds — with 
which  to  return.  So  I  decided  to  go  via  Siberia  in  an  emigrant 
train,  and  reach  London  with  a  fiver  still  in  my  pocket.  From 
Hong-Kong  to  London  on  ten  pounds  !  Impossible,  my  reader 
say^.  Not  a  bit  of  it  !  Not  only  possible,  but  comparatively 
easy. 

In  the  end,  however,  I  did  not  go  home  overland.  ]\ly  plans 
were  all  laid  for  that  end  when  my  Japanese  friends  told  me 
there  was  a  timber  tramp  about  to  leave  Hokkaido,  in  Japan,  for 
Antwerp.  They  suggested  that  I  should  join  her  in  the  capacity  of 
anything  from  a  first-class  passenger  to  interpretei'.  Though  it 
meant  covering  old  ground  I  accepted  right  away.  To  be  frank, 
I  was  funking  the  Siberian  trip  on  an  emigrant  train  during 
the  snows  ;  for  you  cannot  go  on  Ijurning  the  candle  at  both 
ends  for  six  years  and  be  just  what  you  were  when  you  started. 

My  steamer  was  reported  due  at  Singapore  the  middle  of 
September,  so  on  tJie  first  day  of  the  month  I  left  for  that  port 
on  the  German  mail  ;  unfortimately  1  had  to  pay  fare — one  of 
the  few  occasions  when  Fate  left  me  in  the  lurch.  Conscquenth- 
I  travelled  third  class  ;  but  third  on  the  German  line  is  nearly 
as  good  as  second  on  the  English  or  Japanese  lines.  Save  a  run 
through  the  tail  end  of  a  typhoon  wliich  smashed  us  up  a 
little,  we  had  an  uneventful  passage.  For  fellow-travellers  I 

J94 


IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN 

had  a  young  American  from  jManila,  a  Scotch  engineer,  both 
good  fellows,  a  couple  of  young  Japanese  girls,  bound,  I  fear 
(I  should  say,  I  know),  for  the  "  dives  "  of  Singapore,  an  Austrian 
woman  travelling  as  a  distressed  British  subject,  and  one  or 
two  others  of  divers  nationalities.  The  Austrian  "  lady  "  was 
the  source  of  much  amusement.  She  had  been  married  to  a 
"  Tommy,"  who  had  deserted  her  ;  hence  her  claim  on  the  British 
nation.  For  inquisitiveness  and  curiosity  she  had  no  rival.  The 
Scotch  "  chief  "  warned  me  five  minutes  after  we  had  struck 
up  conversation.  "  She  already  knows  your  name,"  he  said. 
"  I  watched  her  quizzing  the  labels  on  your  baggage.  You  wait 
a  bit  and  she  will  put  you  through  your  cross-examination : 
the  funny  part  of  it  is,  she  always  prefaces  her  questions  with, 
'  You  know,  I  don't  want  to  be  inquisitive.'  "  The  "  chief  "  was 
right,  for  Hong-Kong  was  not  yet  out  of  sight  before  the  old 
dame  sidled  up  to  me  and  started  operations.  Her  first  question 
was  pretty  straight  to  the  point :  "  Are  you  going  to  Singapore  ?  " 
I  answered  briefly  in  the  affirmative  and  awaited  further  de- 
velopments. "  We  have  a  funny  lot  of  passengers,"  she  went  on 
in  a  confiding  manner,  "  they  all  seem  frightened  to  tell  you 
anything.    Now,    I   hate   inquisitive   people,    don't   you  ?  "    I 
murmured,   "Yes."  She  talked  on  for  a  bit  and  then  said, 
"  Have  you  been  long  in  China  ?  "  And  then,  hastily:  "  You 
know,  I  don't  want  to  be  inquisitive."  I  replied  to  this  and  many 
other  pertinent  questions  very  discreetly,  till  the  old  dame 
awoke  to  the  fact  that  I  was  giving  nothing  away.  We  got  quite 
a  lot  of  fun  out  of  her  before  Singapore  was  reached  ;   for  she 
was  as  comnmnicative  about  herself  as  inquisitive  about  others. 
We  soon  knew  her  whole  history  from  the  day  she  left  Austria 
to  the  day  she  tackled  the  British  consul  at  Shanghai  for  a  free 
passage  to  Singapore  to  seek  out  her  erring  husband.  "  Let  me 
catch  him  with  '  that  girl  '  "   (an  anonymous  letter  with  an 
account  of  liis  "  goings  on  "  with  another  woman  had  brought 
our  friend  down)  "  and  I  will  let  her  know  that  I  am  not  too 
old  to  mark  her  yet."  It  boded  ill  for  the  unfortunate  husband, 
all  unconscious  of  his  irate  wife's  impending  arrival.  1  met  the 

395 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

old  lady  again  when  I  returned  Ironi  Johore,  as  I  was  poking 
my  head  into  a  "  dive  "  in  Singapore  ;  she  welcomed  me  with 
open  arms.  She  hadn't  found  her  husband,  however  ;  he  had 
heard  of  her  coming  and  had  migrated  north. 

On  arrival  at  Singapore  I  found  that  the  latest  news  of  my 
steamer  was  that  she  would  not  arrive  for  at  least  another  two 
weeks.  So  I  found  myself  with  an  idle  fortnight  on  my  hands 
and  very  little  money.  "  What  am  I  to  do  with  myself  for  these 
two  weeks  ?  "  was  the  question  I  asked  myself  domiciled  in  a 
little  Japanese  hotel  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  till  I  suddenly 
recalled  a  man  I  knew  on  the  rubber  estates  in  Johore.  So  I 
wrote  to  him  :  "  I  am  at  a  loose  end  for  ten  days  aw^aiting  my 
ship.  May  I  visit  you  on  your  estate  ?  "  Whilst  awaiting  the  reply 
I  was  asked  by  my  Japanese  fi'iends  in  Singapore  whether  I 
would  care  to  go  and  visit  their  rubber  estate  on  the  Johore 
River.  I  gladly  seized  this  opportunity,  and  that  same  day  I 
embarked  on  a  small  steamer  bound  for  Raya. 

A  four  hours'  sea  trip  on  the  small  launch  through  the  quiet 
waters  off  Singapore,  studded  with  low  islands  girded  with 
mangrove  swamjos,  thickly  timbered  and  green  in  tropical 
foliage,  brouglit  me  to  Raya.  On  the  way  I  caught  glimpses  of 
little  Malay  villages,  which  consisted  of  a  collection  of  thatched 
huts  erected  on  piles  nestling  amidst  sheltering  palms.  At  many 
of  these  villages  the  launch  stojjpcd  to  take  on  and  disembark 
])assengers,  a\]io  were  conveyed  to  and  from  the  shore  in  small 
sampans. 

At  the  time  ol'  my  visit  the  Japanese  rubber  estate  had  been 
only  o})eiicd  sojiic  twenty-one  months  ;  so  not  more  than  one 
th(jusand  acres  had  been  planted  with  rubber.  Thirteen  hun- 
dred acres  more  had  been  cleared  and  were  ready  for  plant- 
ijtg  :  tlie  rest  \va^  in  Ww.  eoiu'  .e  of  clearing.  It  was  estimated 
by  (lie  iiiajiagcmcnt  that  another  eighteen  months  would  see 
the  cstnlc  a!l  planted.  TJiis  estate  was  one  of  the  many  worked 
by  the  Japanese  i]i  31u'aya  ;  in  the  last  ten  years  they  have 
beeii  investing  heavily  in  I'ubber.  in  extent  the  estate  was  live 
thousand  aci'c.s,  which  is  the  usual  recognised  area  for  rubber 

J9^ 


'r,\rn\i:    l<ri;i;i;K   I'kkk 


\i     \!--,i;i:  I  \  I  ]>  .\    '  M     M  \i  \\  \ 


IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN 

plantations  in  Malaya  ;  though  there  are  some  as  large  as 
ten  thousand  acres,  but  this  area  has  been  generally  found  to 
be  too  much  for  one  property. 

Tlie  magnitude  oJ'  the  undertaking  to  lay  out  a  rubber  estate 
is  hardly  fully  realised  by  stay-at-home  shareholders.  It  means 
clearing  a  large  stretch  of  virgin  land,  encumbered  with  a  thick 
jungle  growth  of  timber,  entwining  foliage  and  vegetation. 
Every  growing  thing  on  the  virgin  soil  must  be  removed  and 
burnt,  even  to  the  weeds  and  trailing  grass  that  suck  nourish- 
ment from  the  ground,  before  the  young  rubber  trees  can  be 
planted  ;  and  this  is  no  small  task.  Even  then  the  shareholder 
must  possess  his  soul  in  patience  for  at  least  another  four  years, 
if  not  five,  before  the  trees  will  yield  him  one  penny  dividend 
in  the  shape  of  rubber. 

A  rubber  estate  in  the  course  of  clearing  is,  consequently, 
hardly  what  would  be  termed  a  picturesque  or  romantic  sight. 
Great  patches  of  desolate-looking  ground,  littered  with  felled, 
bui-nt  and  charred  timber,  meet  the  eye  on  all  sides,  where 
before  had  waved  graceful  trees  and  shady  foliage.  The  sloping 
hills  are  barren  and  ugly  to  the  eye  of  all — ^save  the  planter,  for 
he  terms  them  beautiful  ;  the  bleak  weeded  stretch  of  land 
appeals  to  him,  Avhilst  the  native  jungle  which  so  delights  the 
visitor  is  to  him  a  painful  eyesore  to  be  removed  as  soon  as 
possible.  Beauty  is,  after  all,  only  a  relative  term. 

Alter  an  enjoyable  visit  I  returned  to  Singapore.  On  my 
retmii  I  J'ound  a  letter  awaiting  me.  It  v/as  not,  however,  from 
my  friend  but  From  the  manager  of  the  estate,  and  was  to  the 
effect  that  he  had  opened  my  letter  thinking  it  was  a  business 
comnmnieatio]!.  Apparently,  he  wrote,  1  had  not  learnt  of  my 
friend's  departiac  i'rom  IMalay  for  England  ;  but,  his  letter 
concluded,  would  1  })ass  the  "  loose  end  "  with  him  as  his  guest. 
For  true  hospitahty  you  must  go  to  the  East  ! 

The  next  day  saw  me  travelling  throiigli  eternal  groves  of 
rubber  to  Mengkibol  in  the  centre  of  Johore  where  the  estate 
was  ;  fo]',  iiccdU'ss  to  say.  I  accepted  my  unknown  friend's 
invitation  most  gratefully. 

397 


A  WANDERER'S  TRAIL 

I  must  confess  that  to  me  the  rubber  estate  managed  by 
Japanese  seemed  the  superior.  Good  roads  in  the  foreign 
rubber  estates  (I  use  the  word  "  foreign  "  as  against  Japanese) 
were  lacking.  The  conditions  prevailing  to-day  in  the  rubber 
plantations  of  ]Malay  seem  to  mc  very  similar  to  those  that  were 
on  the  Rand  before  the  Boer  War.  Favouritism,  waste,  and 
ignorance  or  inexperience,  are  rife ;  the  ideal  system  of  manage- 
ment has,  in  my  opinion,  yet  to  be  evolved.  Such  was  my 
passing  impression. 

I  returned  from  Mengkibol  with  my  host,  who  was  an  excellent 
fellow — a  Scotsman.  In  all  my  wanderings  the  best  Britisher 
I  have  met  abroad  is  the  Scotsman  ;  the  worst  the  Australian. 
I  can  only  conclude  that  the  home  training  of  the  one  is  the  best, 
of  the  other  the  worst.  I  must  confess  I  never  met  in  all  my 
wanderings  an  Australian  I  could  really  trust.  I  hope  one  day 
Fate  will  give  me  the  opportunity  of  meeting  the  real  Australian. 

My  last  night  in  Singapore  was  the  "  swiftest  "  night  I  have 
ever  spent.  Trust  a  man  in  Rubber  to  do  the  honours  well. 
It  was  my  last  night  in  the  East,  and  one,  I  fear,  very  typical  of 
Kipling's  words  : 

'•  Sliip  me  somewhere  east  of  Suez,  where  the  best  is  like  the  worst. 
Where  there  ainl  no  ten  commandments,  and  a  man  can  raise  a  thirst.'' 

I  mixed  everything  Chinese  with  everything  Scotch  and 
English.  I  also  smoked  three  or  four  pipes  of  opium  out  of  curio- 
sity, but  to  my  disgust  never  had  any  beautiful  dreams,  as  I)e 
Quincey  had  led  me  to  sup]wse.  Such  was  my  last  evening  in  the 
East — -the  East  that  never  will  be  the  West,  the  East  that  lures 
and  yet  repels,  the  East  that  has  made  many  and  marred  nioi-e. 
Next  day  I  sailed  for  England. 

Tiic  days  sped  on.  Ceylon,  Sokotra  Island,  faded  away. 
Perim  w;is  reached.  Port  Said  was  soon  left  and  then  the  thick 
fogs  off  the  S])anish  Coast  wrapped  us  in  a  cloud.  All  the  time 
my  thoughts  were  busy,  roaming  in  space.  And  I  had  a  lot  to 
think  al>out  !    I  thought  of  myself  at  one  and  twenty,  full  of 

3^^ 


IN  THE  FAR  EAST  AGAIN 

Hope  and  Ambition,  setting  out  to  see  the  world  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  Youth  ;  and  then  of  myself  at  twenty-seven, 
returning  home  with  little  to  show  for  my  years  of  travel — save 
the  gift  of  Experience  and  Knowledge  of  mankind.  I  often 
wondered  during  those  hours  whether  I  should  ever  have  made 
the  initial  step  if  I  had  foreseen  the  path  that  lay  before  me. 

Few  respond  to  the  call  of  the  Unknown  that  comes  to  us  in 
the  springtime  of  Life  ;  most  of  us  strangle  it  at  birth.  One  must 
be  yomig  to  see  the  world  at  its  best,  to  laugh  at  the  discomforts 
and  glorify  the  reward— but  the  reward  of  true  Travel  declares 
itself  slowly,  and  is  not  to  be  measured  in  terms  of  cash. 


399 


INDEX 


Alaska,  Sz  et  seq.  ;  cattle-driving  in, 
75-81  ;  climate  of,  87  ;  scenery  on 
coast  of,  So 

Alert  Bay,  103 

Algiers,    i9yig(^ 

Alleppi,  3<'--3^^3 

America,  customs  olticers  in,  200  ;  first 
impressions  of,  31  et  seq.  ;  immigra- 
tion tax,  30  ;  Independence  Day  in, 
68  ;    sports  in,  54-69 

Antung,  1D9-170;  Japanese  settlement 
lu,  1(19  ;  Alukden  Railway,  169,  171  ; 
theatre  in,   170 

Ataran  River,  374,  375 

Azores,  the,  196 


Baseball,    American,    54;     Japanese, 

147 

Beira,  343 

Bethell,  Air  E.  T.,  157,  160  et  seq.  (see 
Vang  -  Ki  -  Tak;  ;  as  champion  of 
Korea,  i')o  ;  exposure  of  Japanese 
methods.  161  ;   trial  at  Seoul,  162 

Bombay,  351-352 

J^onanza  Creek,  94 

Boston,  199,  201 

Botletle  Kiver,  284-2S5,  308  ;  boat 
constructed  to  f(jrd,  2S4 

f^uddiusm  in  Japan,  137 

Buddhist  village  school  in  Burma,  377 

J3uruia,  366  et  seq.  ;  Golden  Bagoda, 
3'>o  ;  nationalities  in,  373  ;  rice 
mills,  369  ;  scenery  o  ,  307-368  ; 
tea^v  industry,  370 

l?urmese  courtesy,  371 


C 


Calcutta,  387 
Calicut,  356 

Calitornia,  2')  r' 


jute  mills,  388 

i"-/.  ;    fruit-farming  in, 


Candle  Island,  359 

Cannanore,  ^^^ 

Changchun,    173,    174 

Chief   Khama,   245-246  ;     his   country, 

241-245 
Chinese  cemetery  in  Mukden,  173 
Cochin,  358  et  seq.  ;    cocoanut  industry 

of>  35'^'359  '    Jewish  colony  in,  360- 

361  ;     relics    of    Dutch   colonisation, 

361 
Cockburn,  Mr  H.,   163-166 
Coronel  Bay,"  25-26 


D 


Dacoits  of  Kyno  Ktan-;,  368 

Dai  Han  Mai  It  Shi}npo,i^j 

Dairen,  179 

Damara  native,  the,  247,  283,  315-318 

musical  talent  of,  2 S3 
Dawson  City,  93,   94,   95;    "M    ^v  X' 

saloon  in,  95 
Delagoa  Bay,  340 
Ditawane  \Vell,  257-258 


Edi'catiox  in  Ja[)an   (see  Japan) 


Full  Sax,   144 
I-\isan,   152 


G 


^-/  ;    horse-breai.mg  m,  30 
2  C 


Galapagos  Isles,  27 

Georgia,  Gulf  of,  78 

Gibraltar,  196 

Gold-mining  industry  of  Rand,  220  et 
seq.  :  dangers  of,  224  ;  experiences 
underground,  227  et  seq.  ;  nati\"e 
labour,  221,  237  ;  scale  of  payment 
of  miners,  220  ; 

Gro  izin  or  (rcorgian  of  i  iarl^in,  177 


401 


INDEX 


H 


Halifax,   197 

Harbin,  176-178 

Hawaiian  Islands,  123,  124 

Hayama,  143 

Heina  Veld,  309-312 

Hong-Kong,  185-187,  390,  393  ;  climate 

of,  186  ;    maskeeitis  in,  186 
Honolulu,   123-127 
Hood  River,  54 
Hunghutzes,  brigands  of  Manchuria,  174 


I 


Indian  Seamanship,  364 
Inhambane,   341 
Ismailia,  194 
Ito,  Prince,  160 

J 

Japan,  education  in,  135-136  ;  foreign 
influence  in,  148;  hospitality  in,  132, 

133.  I79'   180  ;    impressions  of,   131- 

134.  140,     142  ;      lax    discipline    on 
steamers,  144  ;    teaching  English  in, 

135.  139 

Japanese  mihtary  administration  in 
Korea,  153  ;  morality,  140  ;  rulj'.ier 
estate  (see  Singapore)  ;  settlers  in 
Korea,  140  ;  sports,  146  -  151  ; 
theatres,  169-170 

Joagalem  Mountains.  36S 

Johannesburg,  207,  208,  209  et  sea.  ; 
amusements  in,  210;  gold-mining  in, 
207  et  seq.  ;  nationalities  in,  209  ; 
recruiting  company,  238  ;  running  a 
bottle  store  in,  332-336  ;  tea-rooms 
in,  212 

JujutsH,  139,  148 


K 


Kalahari  Dlsert,  242  e'  seq.  ;  lion 
veld.  276-278  ;  nati\-es  of,  254-25'..  ; 
trekking  in,   250  et  seq. 

Kin  Choung,  368 

Kingwilliamstown,  206 

Klondyke,  94-99 

Kod')~Ii'K'a>:  of  Tokio,  149-150 

Korea,  British  Consul-General  of  (see 
Mr  H.  (iockburn)  ;  Daily  Xei^^s,  157, 
if'.oetscq.  :  Japanese  military  control 
in,  159-160  ;  Japanese  >c'^i)ne  in 
I'^io  et  seq.  ;  National  Debt  Re- 
demption h'und,  1^.3,  \h() 


Kunsan  Mission  Station,  153,  154 
Kurube,  293-294 
Kwangchangtsu,  174,  175 
Kyeik  Myaw,  376 


Lake  Bennett,  91,  99 
Lake  Xgami,  286 
Lotlhakane  Well,  260,  261 

M 

Magellan,  Straits  of,  24-25  ;   Darwin's 

description  of,  25 
^lalabar,  fish-curing  industry  of,  357 
Manchuria.    i6g    et    seq.  ;     agricultural 

produce  of,  174,  176 
Mangalore,   354;    tile  manufacture  at, 

354"355 
Martaban,  Gulf  of,  366 
Mestchersky,  Prince,  175 
Miike,  183,  393 

Militarism,  evils  of,  159^2!  seq.,  28S-2S9 
Moji,  145,  1S4,  391 
Mokpo,  153 
Mombasa,  349-350 
Mopipi,  264,  265 
Mosarwas  of  Kalahari,  254-256 
Moulmein,   368-372  ;     Golden   Pagoda, 

371 '  373  ''  River  (sec  Salween  River) 
Mount  f^tna,   195 
Mount  Zingvaik,  3S1-3S3  ;    ascent  of, 

381 
^lukden,  172,  173 
Muroran,   129,   131 

N 

National  Debt  Redemption  Fund 
(see  Korea) 

New  York,  200 

Ngabyima,  377 

Ngamiland,  British  colonisation 
methods  in,  288  ;  horse-sickness  in, 
297,  298  ;  nati\^e  of,  287  ;  recruiting 
natives  in,  298,  300,  304  ;  trekking 
through,  260  et  seq. 


O 


Oregon,  40  et  seq.  ;  hop-hoeing  in,  60- 
61  ;  lumbering  in,  42-50  ;  saw-mills, 
53,  54  ;    strawberry-picking  in,  56,  57 

Ovamboland,  native  of,  238 


40  i 


INDEX 


Pacific      Ocean     pilot     chart,     185  ; 

storms  in,  115-119,  129,  130;  voyage 

across,  1 14-13 1 
Palapye,  241 
Penang,    188,   189,   390  ;     products  of, 

189 
Perim,   191,   192 
Pingyang,  169 
Point  du  Galle,  190 
Port  Arthur,   180-182  ;    War  Souvenir 

Museum  at,  182 
Portland,  40,  53,  61-63  '>    employment 

offices  in,  61-63 
Port  Said,  195 
Port  Simpson,  102 
Port  Tewfik,  193 
Prince  Rupert,  102,  103 
Puget  Sound,  67,  68 
Punta  Arenas,  25 


R 

Raxi)  (see  Gold-mining  Industry) 
Rangoon,  384-386  ;   River,  384  ;   Shwe 

Dagon  Pagoda  of,  385 
Rhakops,  309 


Stella,  51-52 

Suez,  193  ;  Canal  dues,  193  ;  Canal  pilot, 

194 


Tacoma,  66  ;  coaling  at,  1 12 

TeUicherri,  355 

Tiehling  Heights,  174 

Tokio,  135  e^  seq.,  392  ;  rowing  in,  147  ; 
Rugby  football  in,  146  ;  tram- 
crowding  in,  142 

Tsau,  290-292,  296  ;  doctor  at,  299- 
300  ;    races,  305-306 

Tuticorin,  364 

Typhoons,  184-185  ;  in  Bay  of  Bengal, 
366 


Vancouver,  72  et  seq.,  104  ;  first  ex- 
periences in,  105,  106  ;  Japanese 
labour  in,  104  ;  remittance-man  of, 
72  ;  running  a  cigar  store  in,  74-76  ; 
Island,  112,  113  ;  Indian  settlers  on 
coast,  103 

Victoria,  108 


W 


St  Vincent  Island,  23 

Salween  (or  Moulmein)  River,  367 

Sandwich  Islands,  123 

San  Francisco,  27-28,  39,  109-111; 
labour  war  in,  29  ;  results  of  earth- 
quake, 29-30 

Sanger  Island,  386 

Seattle,  67-70,  108 

Seoul,  157  ;  hospitality  in,  158  ;  Press, 
157,  158,  168 

Serowe,  245 

Seymour  Narrows,  79 

Shanghai,   183,  391  ;    currency  in,  391 

Shimonseki,  Straits  of,  391 

Singapore,  188,  396-398  ;  Japanese 
rubber  estate,   396-397 

Skagway,  82-84 

Sokotra  Island,  191 

South  Manchuria  Railway,  173 

Stateu  Island,  199 


Wellesley  Province,  i88-i8g 
Whitehorse,  copper-mining  at,  97 
Whitehorse  Rapids,  97 
White  Pass,  85,  91,  99 
Woosang,  391 
Wrangel,  100 


Yano-Ki-Tak,    161,    162  ;     arrest    of, 

163;    mistaken  release  of,   164-166; 

trial  at  Seoul,  166 
Yangtse  River,  183 
"Yankee"     reporting,     instances     of, 

123,  124,  126 
Yukon  River,  92-93,  96-97 


Zanzibar,  344-348  ;    clove  industry  of, 
345-347 


403 


FormL-9-15,,,-7,'32 


R4ov/      iiidrer   - 

A   v/anderer'  s 
trail. 


a465 


jj^  souther;,  R_EGjONAL_LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      000  145  962    7 


'Rn; 


iJN<V!^- 


